


Taming Demons

by dirtyuncle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Adventure, Banter, Corruption, Curse Breakers, Demon/Human, Demons, Dubious Morality, Dungeon, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fallen Angel, Fantasy Creatures, Fights, Gag, Hate Sex, Hell, Horns, Humor, Lust Potion/Spell, Master/Servant, Non-Consensual Bondage, Orgasm Denial, Porn With Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Revenge, Smut, Spanking, Succubus, Tail Sex, Tails, Threesome - F/F/M, Tickling, Veela, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 117,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyuncle/pseuds/dirtyuncle
Summary: Harry lives in ignorance of the forces his mother had called upon to protect him until, at eleven, he is forced to make a deal with a demoness to survive. When she returns to collect her payment seven years later, he turns the tables on her.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Gabrielle Delacour, Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s)/Gabrielle Delacour
Comments: 150
Kudos: 1022





	1. Prologue

"Hand over the Stone, Potter," Quirrel said, bringing up his wand. "You won't like the consequences if you don't." His eyes were bloodshot, and his bald scalp contorted grotesquely as Voldemort stirred underneath.

Harry raised his own wand, but in an instant, it was wrenched from his fingers. He backpedaled until his back bumped the wall, then slid down to the floor. Quirrel sneered as he approached with deliberate, unhurried steps, each exacerbating the burning in Harry's scar.

Harry reached up to clasp his pendant; the memento of his mother always gave him strength. Eyes watering with pain, he prayed for someone, _anyone_, to save him. Having done this a hundred times back in his cupboard at number four, Privet Drive, he knew it was futile, yet he couldn't help but repeat the silent plea as Quirrel drew ever closer.

"Greetings, little one," a soft female voice said in his head.

The pendant nearly slipped from his fingers. "M-mum?"

The voice laughed. "Mortals called me many things, but never that. You may address me as Lilith. I can help you, but you must do as I say."

"What—"

He yelped as he was flung against the wall. Quirrel flicked his wand, and Harry's pockets turned themselves out one by one until a dark red stone was ejected. It froze mid-air before floating into Quirrel's palm.

"I have it, Master, I have it!" Quirrel exclaimed, holding up the stone reverently.

Harry slumped on the floor, gasping for air. Lilith was speaking again; he struggled to focus on her words through the ringing in his skull.

"There's no time, mortal. The two-souled one is going to kill you now that you're no longer needed. If you want to live, repeat after me..."

"I, Harry James Potter," he said, clutching the pendant for dear life as Quirrel's wand rose to point at him, "vow to yield to you what you desire the most in return for your protection!"

The amulet grew scorching hot, and he let go with a cry. He scrambled to yank it off his neck, only to pause and stare at his left palm. It held an angry red mark in the shape of a pentacle surrounded by a snake eating its tail, but the color was already fading, and the pain receding.

"_Good boy_," Lilith's voice whispered in his ear, and he shivered at her predatory tone.

The air between him and Quirrel wavered with heat, and space itself split apart, revealing a barren, fiery landscape. Blistering wind washed over him, and a stench of sulfur assaulted his nose. Something—no, _someone—_stepped through, and the rift closed, bringing relief from the sweltering temperature.

Harry gaped. The stranger was taller than him, older—like the upper-year girls, perhaps—except she wasn't human. Dark bat-like wings extended from her shoulder blades, and a smooth tail protruded through the waistband of her leather shorts, ending with a spade-shaped tip. Her hair flowed like fire to her bare midriff in waves of rich crimson. Two small horns poked out above the temples, rivaled in length by her pointy ears.

Her strikingly violet, slit-pupil eyes contemplated Harry before swiveling to Quirrel.

"What are you?" Quirrel demanded. "Another of Dumbledore's guardians?"

"I am Lilith," the stranger said, drawing back her arm, "and you are my prey."

"She's not of this world," Voldemort hissed. "Flee, you fool!"

Black flames gathered in Lilith's palm, and she threw them like one would a Quaffle. Quirrel hesitated, half-raising his wand, and it became his undoing: shadowy fire engulfed him, and he collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony.

"Potter, you imbecile!" Voldemort's voice was barely audible over his host's agonized cries. "You have doomed yourself for eternity..."

"Silence, vermin." Lilith kicked the possessed man's head.

Quirrel's neck snapped backward, and he toppled to the floor. A dark shade escaped through the mouth, zooming away with a shriek. The dark flames flared, consuming the corpse in seconds before fading away, only leaving a small pile of ash.

Lilith linked her hands and stretched them over her head with a pleased sigh. Her wings quivered and shrank upon themselves, leaving only faint dark marks on her tan skin. Turning to Harry, she bared her elongated fangs. She was clad entirely in black leather: skimpy shorts, a tight bodice, and a choker around her neck. Had the situation been different, he might've been flustered about the indecent amount of skin that was on display, but as it was, he could only stare in shock.

"You—you spoke to me through the pendant." His hand rose to grasp it. "Are you... a friend of my mother's?"

Snorting, Lilith tossed her hair back. "Lily and I did make a deal, but I never got her soul. She was a cunning one, your mother... Unlike you."

Harry gulped, recalling what little he knew of the Bible. "You t-take people's souls?"

"A fair price for my services, is it not?" Lilith advanced on him, her smile widening. "Silly boy, there's no point in running away—you already belong to me. _Kneel_."

Pain lanced through Harry's marked palm, and he dropped to the floor, his body obeying without conscious volition. Lilith sashayed closer; he tried frantically to move his legs, but they didn't budge. His vision blurred with tears.

"You were supposed to protect me!"

"And I did just that, did I not? The fault is yours for not specifying any details. I swear, you mortals are getting dumber every generation." She bent down to grasp the collar of his robes and lifted him to her eye level. A peculiar smell of burning sandalwood and spice tickled his nostrils. "I believe I'll collect my payment straight away. Opening a portal across the planes at a moment's notice was no easy task, even with your unwitting help."

"Let go of me, bitch! You _tricked_ me!" He twisted and punched, but she extended her arm so his swings wouldn't reach her, amusement evident on her face.

She brought up her other hand—slender and feminine but ending in fierce nails—to graze his cheek. "Are you that attached to your useless life, mortal? I would treat you well in the Underworld. Maybe even make you my pet for a time." She licked his blood off her nail, her eyes narrowing.

He ceased struggling and merely hanged onto her wrist so he could breathe. Tears trickled down his cheeks, stinging the fresh cut. "Please don't kill me. Please. I want to live, I have friends, _please_—"

She let him fall to the floor, where he clutched his throat and coughed. "Tell you what." Her foot tapped the flagstones. "I'll consider letting you off if you manage to amuse me. Beg for your life."

He stared at her for a moment, then lowered his head. "Please spare me."

She yawned theatrically. "_Boring_. Tell me how worthless you are, worm."

"I'm—I'm worthless," he repeated, choking back tears. "I'm stupid and weak. Please don't kill me."

"Pathetic! Are all mortal children as feeble as you? I made my first kill when I was half your age." She stepped on his head, the heel of her knee-high boots digging into his scalp. "There's no fight in you, no pride! Just for that, I'll make you suffer before I put you out of your misery."

The pressure on his scalp vanished as Lilith wedged her foot underneath his shoulder and flipped him over with unearthly strength. The back of his head smashed against the floor, and the impact knocked his glasses askew. Pushing with his hands, he clambered away, his heart thumping furiously in his ears.

"Go ahead and struggle as much as you can," Lilith said in a sing-song voice. "It will make this more enjoyable."

He bolted to his feet and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, casting his gaze around. When it landed on his wand, which lay in a shadowy corner, he lunged toward it.

The demoness blew past him at a speed that shouldn't have been possible. She leisurely picked up the wand, her tail wagging side to side, and with a toothy grin, spun it in her fingers. "Looking for this trinket?"

He recoiled, panting. Too fast, too strong—never mind putting up a fight, there was no way he could even escape her. He slunk backward, eyeing Lilith warily and expecting her to attack any second.

Something else caught her attention, however, and her cat-like eyes turned toward the entrance into the chamber. A scowl marred her pretty face, and black wings sprouted from her back, growing rapidly until they returned to their former size. She beat them several times, her crimson hair billowing out.

"Something powerful approaches," she said in a tone that wasn't quite as self-assured as before. Her eyes sought him out again. "You're in luck, little one. I'll give you seven years; to someone like me, it will be but a moment, but that's a long time for mortals, is it not?"

She tossed Harry his wand, then stalked over to the pile of ash that remained of Quirrel, craning her neck and sniffing at the air. Suddenly, she raked her nails downward, and the portal into a blazing desert reappeared before her, filling the chamber with the stench of sulfur. When she stepped in and the rift began to close, her voice drifted through.

"Wallow in fear and desperation... Suffering stains a soul in such exquisite colors."

The rift disappeared and the chamber fell silent. He braced against the wall, hardly believing he had escaped with his life.

A faint echo of hurried footsteps came, growing louder by the second, and his head pivoted toward the entrance. His mouth stretched into a relieved smile when Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, towering and furious. The headmaster paused at the threshold, then waved his pale wand to conjure a cool breeze. The keen eyes behind the half-moon glasses shifted from the Mirror of Erised to the scattered pile of ash to Harry himself.

Harry inhaled the now-fresh air and swayed on his feet; the relief was so overwhelming it was making him lightheaded. He stumbled forward and collapsed into Dumbledore's arms, the august wizard somehow having crossed the vast chamber in time to catch him. Dumbledore said something, but Harry's head was spinning and there was a whooshing sound in his ears. Darkness crept across his vision, and he welcomed it gladly.

* * *

Harry lay in bed, feeling groggy and sluggish. The Mirror of Erised, the Philosopher's Stone, Voldemort... Lilith. Here, in the airy, sunlight-filled hospital wing, it all seemed like a dream.

How he wished it were only that.

He lifted his trembling left fist, lowered it to the blanket, then lifted it again. Slowly, reluctantly, he unclenched it. There, in the middle of his palm, was the cursed mark the demoness had given him. Pale, faded, but undeniable.

His breath quickened. Leaning over to the bedside table, he scrabbled for his wand and aimed it at his palm.

"Scourgify. Scourgify. Please, go away, _please_. Scourgify. Scourgify. Scourgify."

Soapsuds moistened the bedsheets as he scrubbed his palm raw, yet still the mark persisted.

"Scourgify! Scourgify! Scourgify..."

Splotches of red dyed the soapsuds. His voice cracked, and he furiously wiped his teary eyes with the back of his hand. Tossing his wand aside, he fumbled for his mother's necklace, and with shaking hands, he ripped it off his neck and flung it as far as he could. It clattered to the floor, but as distant laughter rang in his ears, he knew that it wasn't enough.

Seven years. His days were numbered.

* * *

Harry dithered, his gaze darting around the hazy King's Cross station. A small distance away, the raw-skinned creature—the _thing_ he instinctively knew to be a part of Voldemort—continued to thump and wail. At his side sat Dumbledore: silent, content. Perhaps even proud. He had said all he wanted to say and was now waiting patiently for Harry to make his choice.

And still Harry wavered. As he gritted his teeth, telling himself that he had to go back and—and _finish the job_, something rumbled in the distance. He turned his head and beheld a familiar steam train pull into the station, decelerate with a squeak of brakes and clangs of steel, and come to a graceful stop before the platform.

Harry gaped at the scarlet carriages, oddly sharp against the ethereal surroundings, then faced Dumbledore. "If I board it, will I be... free?"

"Free of all earthly burdens and concerns—but also pleasures and delights that only the living may revel in." Dumbledore looked upon him kindly. "Are you certain that is what you want, my young friend? Think of those you would be leaving behind."

"I am," he said curtly.

Emboldened by his decision, he rose to his feet and strode toward the train. Behind him, Dumbledore spoke urgently, trying to talk him out of it, but he didn't listen. He hardly dared to believe it, but here was a ticket out of the existence he had condemned himself to.

He marched up to the sliding doors and stared expectantly. When nothing happened, he wedged his fingers between them and attempted to pry them open. "C'mon!"

"How peculiar," Dumbledore mused, coming up from behind. "I would have thought, with your soul no longer corrupted by Voldemort's horcrux—"

"Open them!" He scratched his left palm. Was it just his imagination, or was there a whiff of brimstone in the air?

Dumbledore raised his bushy eyebrows but approached obediently. The doors slid open for him, and with a curious look at Harry, he stepped into the carriage.

"Was it waiting for me, I wonder?" the headmaster murmured. "Well, no matter. I urge you to reconsider, Harry. As long as you remain on the platform, you may return to your friends. Build a family and live a life free of madmen and prophecies that drive them."

It was tempting, but he knew better: as long as he carried the mark, his life, his very soul, was forfeit. He shook his head. "You don't understand. I have to—I have to go."

Bracing himself, he stepped over the threshold, then exhaled slowly. Just when he began to relax, a deep hum resonated in his bones, and pain lanced up his left arm. Crying out, he sank to the floor before an invisible force hurled him out through the ajar doors.

Skidding to a halt on his back, he squinted at the train. A whistle sounded, and the doors closed slowly, Dumbledore staring at him with shock and dismay on his lined face.

"No," Harry moaned, feebly extending his left hand. The mark on it was pulsing with angry red light, and he fancied he could hear gleeful laughter_. Her _laughter.

A blinding light bathed him, the pain in his palm growing unbearable—then, abruptly, he was lying facedown on the loamy forest floor, back in the real world, in the company of Death Eaters and their master. As he breathed in the crisp air, Dumbledore's last words echoed in his mind.

"My dear boy, _what have you done?_"


	2. Demon, Part One

_Tick, tock_.

_Tick, tock_.

The steady ticking of the antique grandfather's clock echoed in the study, and it took an almost physical effort not to check the time. Harry put the finishing touches to his testament, set the quill aside, and stoppered the inkwell. The parchment crinkled in his hands as he rolled it up and tied it with a cord before depositing it in the top drawer. Then and only then did he allow himself to look at the clock.

The deadline neared.

He snatched a potion bottle from his desk, uncorked it, and downed it in three big gulps. Even so, he nearly gagged at the pungent taste, and hurriedly washed it down with a glass of conjured water. He stood and stretched gingerly, then went over his equipment, making sure his spare wands were strapped securely inside his dragonhide vest.

The clock began chiming, and he shivered, clenching his fists until his knuckles whitened. He found himself hoping against hope that nothing would happen—yet when the familiar melody petered out, he caught a whiff of sulfur. He mastered his fear through hard-won mental techniques.

There was a crackling noise, and he pivoted to see a portal open next to a warded glass case holding his mother's amulet. Its fluctuating edges spat sparks that singed the carpet, and in its middle, a lone figure was outlined against a blazing landscape. Harry grinned fiercely in recognition. One way or another, his seven years of dread would end soon.

Lilith stepped through and unfurled her wings as the portal squelched closed behind her. Violet eyes scanned the room before looking him over.

"Your kind change so fast, mortal," she said. "You're different now, and not in appearance alone. Such composure in the face of death... Have you accepted your fate?"

He inclined his head. "I've put my affairs in order. Let's get this over with." His voice was so calm it even surprised himself.

She snorted and sashayed toward him, her nails lengthening into sharp claws. "Listen to you, all full of yourself. _On your knees_, prey, as befits you."

The mark on his palm flared, and he sank to the floor. Deep in Occlumency-induced tranquility, he didn't make any noise of distress, and his muscles remained loose and relaxed.

He looked up at her. "Before you kill me, would you mind answering a question?"

She leaned in to put a single nail under his chin. "Go on."

"What is your true name? I doubt I'm important enough to rate a visit from the princess of the underworld herself."

Her nail tapped his forehead. "Sounds like you've done your research. In that case, you should know that our names grant mortals the power to summon us and worse."

"There's no one else inside the house, and I'm about to snuff it. Come on, I just want to know who to curse when my soul is tormented for all eternity, or whatever it is you demons do to amuse yourselves."

Her carefree laughter filled the study. "It's Fiamette. Feel free to blubber my name throughout your ordeals so everyone knows who bested you. Do you have anything else to ask me?"

He gave her a serene smile. "Not at all. Collect your payment, demon."

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes before they narrowed and she drew back her arm to strike. He exhaled, sinking deeper into his trance, his muscles coiling like a spring; to his unblinking eyes, her movements became sluggish.

"You've made me wait, mortal." Her voice seemed to be coming from far away. "But sooner or later, we always get our dues."

Her razor-sharp claws hurtled toward his neck, while Harry urged his body to move with his entire being. It was when the tips of her nails punctured his skin that his muscles finally responded, throwing him out of the harm's way in an ungainly leap. He rolled on the floor, coming to a stop a few yards away.

His heart hammered in his chest as time sped up again. Clutching his neck, he drew his wand and aimed an _Episkey_ at the wound. It was fortunate that it wasn't too deep, since he couldn't perform the more complex healing spells nonverbally.

Fiamette stared at him. "The pact is dissolved. What did you do?"

He stood up, his gaze lingering on his blessedly unmarred palm before he wrenched it away. "I'm hardly an expert on magical contracts, but I expect it took offense at you trying to murder the one you were obligated to protect."

Her tail flicked side to side as she bared her fangs. "You anticipated this! Wretched creature with the lifespan of an insect, how dare you defy—" She took in his stance, her eyes narrowing at his wand. "Are you actually thinking of challenging me?"

He gave her a wan smile. "I'd rather not, to be honest. Don't suppose I could convince you to leave?"

"Not without your head." She raised her hand and licked a fleck of his blood off her nail. "Hmm. You've grown, little one. Let's see how long you can last against me." She unfastened her choker and used it to pull her hair into a ponytail.

Harry tensed as her grin grew more predatory. Spreading out her dark wings, she drew back her arm and hurled a bolt of black flame. His wand twitched, and a chair jumped to intercept the attack, burning to ash in an instant. Summoning more furniture, he banished it at his foe.

Fiamette laughed as she danced through the air with inhuman grace. Two chairs broke apart when they hit the bookshelves behind her, and she shattered the third with her bare fist. She crouched, then launched herself at him, only to be knocked backward by a heavy cabinet.

He used the opportunity to escape the study, sealing the door behind him, but even as he barreled down the corridor, the reinforced wood was smashed to kindling.

Spinning around, he unleashed a sharp ribbon that gouged the walls as it zoomed forth, forcing Fiamette to leap over it. He didn't let up, chaining spells together and sending deadly magic buzzing down the corridor. The wood-paneled walls were getting razed, and splinters hurtled through the air.

She ducked and weaved, evading the jets of light by mere inches. During those instants when the noise from the blasts was at its lowest, he could hear her _laughing_. She kicked a vase into the path of his Bludgeoner, covering herself against the fragments with a wing, then vaulted over his conjured chains.

A twirl of his wand, and a lion rose from the debris, rushing down the demolished hallway. Unlike his father, Transfiguration was never his best skill, but he appreciated its utility in distracting his opponents. He returned to casting curses, hoping to catch the damned bitch off guard.

Fiamette didn't bat an eye, rising to the ceiling and incinerating the charging lion with her unholy flames. She then folded her wings and dived toward Harry, twisting in the air to avoid his last spell.

He swiveled and ran, mentally cursing Grimmauld Place's high ceilings. Sprinting down the entrance hall, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to dodge another black firebolt that instead scorched the tiled floor. He ducked around the staircase and into the kitchen.

Fiamette landed to enter through the doorway, and he held his breath, waiting for the right moment. As soon as she crossed the threshold, he gave a mental command to the house's wards, causing a magical circle to light up beneath her feet. She swayed, then leaned against the jamb, clutching her forehead.

Lips twisting in a victorious sneer, he sent the numerous knives in the kitchen soaring toward her; then, for good measure, he conjured five silver daggers out of thin air and fired them off at once.

Fiamette stomped her foot, making the circle fizzle out as a floorboard shot up and blocked several knives. She dropped to the floor, covering herself with her wings, and a sphere of black fire surrounded her, incinerating the daggers. Even Harry's next curse disintegrated with an angry hiss. He stared in astonishment, then frowned and began chanting a lightning conjuration.

Moments after the barrage ceased, the black flames sputtered out and Fiamette's wings folded back. She sprang up, thrusting her hand forward and returning one of the conjured daggers to him in a single graceful motion.

The blade skewered his right palm, and he dropped his wand with a cry, hot blood trickling down his fingers. Following Fiamette with blurry vision, he grabbed the handle and yanked the blade out. She appeared content to let him be since she had her own wounds to tend to: some of the knives from his attack had gotten through after all, piercing her shoulder and thigh.

Sensing an opportunity, he dashed forward to grab his wand. Fast as lightning, Fiamette ripped a dagger out of her shoulder and flung it at him. Its bloodied blade sank into the wooden floor with a _twang_, missing his fingertips by inches.

He blanched and stumbled backward, glaring at her. "Is it too much to hope the silver'll kill you?"

She flashed her fangs. "Don't take me for some lowly imp! It may slow down my healing, nothing more."

For a time, both of them stayed in place. Fiamette had pulled the second dagger out of her thigh and was tossing it in the air while Harry's gaze darted from her to the wand on the floor.

Coming to a decision, he pretended to dive again, only to jump back as soon as she reared her hand to throw. Reaching under his vest with his intact hand, he drew a spare wand.

"Confringo!"

His aim was poor and the spell came out weakened, but the exploding kitchen counter forced her to shelter under her wings. Wrenching his gaze away, he aimed his wand at his bleeding hand and hissed as the battlefield healing spell forcibly knit his flesh.

In a rush of displaced air, Fiamette burst out of the cloud of debris and rocketed toward him. He ducked as he transferred his wand to his dominant hand, but it nearly slipped from his blood-slick fingers. Fiamette didn't give him time to recover, twisting mid-air to deliver a sweeping kick.

He blocked with his forearm, wincing when the impact jarred his bones and pushed him backward. Grabbing her leg with both hands, he spun and threw the demoness with the momentum. He glimpsed the incredulous look on her face as she hurtled through the air, slamming into the fireplace hard enough to fracture the marble mantel. Reaching for his dropped wand, he grimaced when his muscles screamed in protest.

She grasped the sides of the fireplace and pulled herself out, cracking her neck. Bruises mottled her tan skin, and her hair was grey with pulverized marble, but her predatory grace remained.

"That was not a human's power," she said, her cat-like eyes wide.

"Re'em blood." He rubbed his aching wrist. "It only lasts a short while—maybe you should come back when I'm weaker."

She barked a laugh. "Don't insult me, mortal. Let's pit our full strength against each other and see who prevails!"

She shot forth, hair streaming behind her like a crimson banner, and he was forced to block with his sore arm again. As she bounced off his guard, he lashed out in retaliation, his fist glancing off a wing that got in his way.

Fiamette beat her wings, sending a gust of wind into his face and distancing herself from him before landing on the floor and springing forward, her clawed hand outstretched like a spear. Harry dodged, but she nicked his side. He grabbed her by the wrist and threw an elbow in her face, but she blocked with her other hand and used the leverage to pull herself free.

Closing the distance, he swung wildly and grinned when he felt something crack under his fist. The blow lifted her into the air, and she cradled her left hand upon landing. He kept up the offensive, making up with power for what he lacked in finesse. Unfortunately, she was on her guard now, dodging his clumsy attacks rather than attempting to deflect them, and he was tiring. He had trained, but he was no martial artist.

Sensing his diminishing strength, Fiamette grew bolder, probing his guard with fast, light attacks. As he struggled to block, she jumped and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent him reeling. A flurry of lightning-quick jabs to his torso followed, and only his dragonhide vest saved his ribs from shattering. Gasping for air, he punched blindly, but she ducked and swept his legs from under him.

Eyes widening, he rolled away to avoid another thrust that embedded Fiamette's claws in the floor. He scrambled to his feet and kicked mightily as she guarded with her wing, sending her tumbling backward with a ripped-out floorboard stuck to her hand.

Planting his feet firmly, he reached for the spare wand. He had to finish it quickly: he wouldn't last against her in a contest of physical strength, especially now that the effects of the Re'em blood were fading.

He drew a circle in the air, then crossed it with a jagged line. Watching Fiamette shake herself off and stand, he jabbed his wand in her direction and growled, "Fulminare!"

Knowing what to expect, he shut his eyes at the last syllable, but the flash dazzled him even through his eyelids, and the deafening thunderclap left his ears ringing.

He opened his eyes, blinked at the branching scorch mark on the floor, then looked up. Fiamette was in the air and swooping upon him; he swerved away with a yelp that sounded far away in his ears, but her gleaming claws sliced straight through his wand.

Harry stared dumbly at the silvery unicorn hair poking out of the stub in his hand before a kick connected with his chest and sent him flying. His back hit a wall hard enough to rattle his bones, and he slid down, mouth gaping like a fish. Wheezing in a breath, he winced at the stabbing pain in his flank.

Fiamette collapsed to one knee and was struggling to get up. After several tries, she managed to rise, but made no attack, limping in a semi-circle before him. Despite her battered appearance, she wore her broadest smile yet. As her lips moved, he struggled to parse the words, his hearing only partially recovered.

"...I can barely feel my leg. Hadn't I taken to the air, it might be me lying defeated at your feet. You've put up an impressive fight... for a human."

Harry surreptitiously flexed his limbs one by one to make sure he would be able to move while his eyes searched for a weapon. Hope surged within him when his gaze landed on his original wand, the rare combination of holly and phoenix feather, still lying beside the silver dagger buried in the floor. He faced Fiamette in order not to give himself away.

"See, you _can_ amuse me if you but try. Not that you ever stood a chance, of course, but it was a worthy attempt. I haven't had a brawl like this in decades, and never with a mortal." She sized him up, her expression hardening. "Alas, all good things must come to an end. Any last words?"

"Just two." He raised a trembling hand and flipped her the bird. "Get. Fucked."

Fiamette threw her head back and cackled until stopping abruptly and clutching her side. "That's the spirit, Harry!" she said, wiping away a tear. "I'll implant your soul into a behemoth and make you battle in our arenas on my behalf. Perform well as my gladiator for a few centuries, and you may even ascend into a full-fledged demon."

He watched her cup her palm, a black whirlpool forming above it, and tensed. His best opportunity would come when she was recovering after her throw.

"I'm told the agony of burning to death is unspeakable. You can tell me all about it later." She flung the black flames at him.

He leapt out of the way, but his right leg seized up, and he fell hard on his knees. The black fire streaked through the air and hit him squarely in the chest.

Face screwed up, he awaited the annihilation Quirrel had been subjected to on this day exactly seven years ago—but there was only heat and an almost pleasant tingling. Glancing down, he saw the demonic fire eat right through his enchanted robes and armor yet leave his flesh intact. He poked his burning vest and goggled when the flame fizzled out as it came in contact with his fingertip.

"A protective enchantment? No—_no_, it can't be!" A look of horror crossed Fiamette's face. She slung another firebolt at him, but he slapped it his palm without thinking, and the hellfire was extinguished. "The cursed Peverell blood runs through your veins!"

"The Peverells?" he croaked, crawling toward his wand. As his fingers clenched around it, a heartening warmth surged through his arm, and he rose to one knee, training his trembling wand on her. "What of them?"

"Your ancestors called themselves _demon hunters_ and eradicated my kind from Earth," she spat. Her fiery gaze appraised his defiant posture, and she raised a quivering claw before lowering it and taking a deliberate step backward. "No matter; I'll return to strike at you when you least expect it. Live looking over your shoulder—you wore my mark once, so I'll find you no matter where you hole up."

She hobbled out of the kitchen, keeping her eyes on him until she was through the doorway. Groaning, he planted his palms heavily on the floor; it had taken all of his depleted strength just to hold up his wand. Had she decided to fight...

A hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat, followed by a stab of pain in his flank. Again, he survived by a hair's breadth. Again, he would live in fear until her inevitable return. He glanced at the doorway. It was his victory, wasn't it?

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. _Like hell it was_.

Keening with effort, he tried to stand, but his legs gave out. He gritted his teeth, grasped his wand, and aimed at a cabinet.

"Accio Pepper-Up."

The cabinet's doors swung ajar, and a vial floated out jerkily, dropping to the ground halfway and rolling the last few feet toward him. He fumbled off the cork and knocked back the potion, shuddering as reinvigorating energy coursed through his limbs. Rising laboriously to his feet, he staggered out into the entrance hall and followed the stench of brimstone like a hunting hound.

By the time he stumbled into the study, Fiamette was standing before an open portal, the scorching wind from the other side ruffling her hair. Her eyes widened at his appearance.

"See you when you least expect it, mongrel," she said over her shoulder and stepped through. "Don't go around spreading your disgusting seed, or I'll be forced to hunt down your offspring as well."

"Not so fast," he snarled, forcing his exhausted legs into motion. Even as the rift began shrinking, he stuck his hand through and grabbed her swishing tail. Gripping tight, he yanked her out.

"_Eek_!" Falling bum-first on the carpet, she rounded on him furiously, only to be met with a point-blank Confundus Charm. Her head swiveled uncertainly between him and the wavering portal. "Unhand me this instant, barbarian!"

He dragged her away, heedless of her increasingly absurd objections, until the rift vanished along with the suffocating wind. When she made to slash her claws at him, he twisted her tail, and she shrieked, lowering her hands to clutch her buttocks.

Satisfied that he had her under control, he jabbed his wand over his shoulder. "Accio collar!"

A few seconds passed before a smooth metallic ring floated in through the doorway. Before the demoness could regain her wits, he clasped the collar around her neck.

She gasped and sank to the floor, her vicious nails receding and her wings disappearing into her back. Letting go of her tail, he grabbed her by a horn and hauled her, kicking and screaming, across the pockmarked floor until she clung to the doorway for dear life and refused to move further.

"What trickery is this?" she exclaimed. "You dare tamper with my mind?"

Harry sighed; the confusion appeared to be wearing off already. He let go of her horn and bent down to scoop her up in his arms.

"W-what in the name of the Nine Circles are you doing?" Her small fists rained blows on his chest, but the hits barely registered, and she soon gave up, staring at her hands in shock.

Weaving around the craters on the floor, Harry kicked the basement door open and carried her down the stairs. Smokeless oil lamps lit up, illuminating crumbling brick walls along which loomed instruments of torture. He brought Fiamette to a corner, lowered her to the floor, and threaded a chain mortared into the wall through a ring on her collar.

She looked around, her eyes widening as she took in the medieval paraphernalia. "Human... Harry, I'm scared and cold, and this collar hurts _so much_. Please forgive me, Harry—I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything. Let's talk about this."

He fixed her with a stony stare. "You just tried to murder me. Do you seriously believe that'll work?"

She laughed and reclined against the wall, now appearing perfectly at ease. "It was worth a try—and I _would've_ won, were it not for your abhorrent heritage." Her hand rose to the circlet around her neck, and she hissed, blowing at her reddened fingertips. "Consecrated silver, is it? You've studied."

He scowled. "I had a good incentive."

She smirked. "Well, I'm glad I motivated you to do something productive with your worthless life."

He lifted his wand, feeling a smidgen of dark satisfaction when the smirk was wiped off her face. Aiming at the wound on her shoulder, he chanted one of the more powerful healing spells in his arsenal. She jerked back at first, then stared in wonder as her flesh knitted not even leaving a scar. He repeated the process with her thigh, then wiped the sweat off his brow and shuffled toward the stairs. Sleep sounded good—for about a week if he could help it.

"Showing mercy to an enemy?" she yelled at his retreating back. "Too soft, mortal! You should've killed me as soon as you had the chance!"

He shut the door, blocking out her shouts.


	3. Demon, Part Two

Harry whistled a jaunty tune as he climbed down into the basement the next morning. While still shaky from the aftereffects of Re'em blood, he had healed his injuries and consumed several restorative potions that were already working their magic.

"Good morning," he greeted Fiamette with a smile.

Huddling in her corner, she silently tracked him with her amethyst eyes. In addition to being disheveled and dirty from yesterday's fight, her knuckles appeared freshly bruised, but he wasn't worried about her escaping: the walls were enchanted to withstand a rampaging giant.

He came up to her, sniffed loudly, and waved his hand under his nose. "Ugh, you reek." It wasn't even true, but he was certain it would get a rise out of her.

"Whose fault do you think that is!" she snapped.

"My bad," he said, grinning. "Here, allow me to rectify that—Aguamenti!"

She shrieked and sputtered as he directed the stream of cold water over her. A few Scouring Charms, and her tan skin was left squeaky clean if slightly reddened. He washed the soap suds away with more conjured water.

"Y-you dumb brute," she said, teeth chattering. "I'll remember this!"

He chuckled. Drenched head to toe, wet hair clinging to her skin, her murderous glare wasn't nearly as effective. When he channeled a hot wind at her, she leaned into the warmth with an involuntary sigh, her hair billowing out.

He ran his eyes over her immaculate body, not a single bruise in sight. "Your regenerative powers are really something."

She stuck her chest out. "Ha! Anything would seem impressive to a frail creature like yourself."

He snorted. "What does it say about you that you got defeated by one?"

Fiamette crossed her arms and pouted until he finished drying her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she raked her fingers through her windswept hair. "So, how come a naive little boy like yourself owns a house with a basement full of torture implements?"

"I inherited the place from a Dark family and thought it would be a shame to toss them. They add a certain ambiance, don't you agree?"

Her nostrils flared. "As a matter of fact, I do. This place smells of most delicious suffering."

"I'm glad you approve, because you're going to stay here for a while. It won't feel long for an immortal being like yourself, I'm sure." He snickered at her disgruntled look. "Go ahead and settle in, I'll come back in half a day or so."

"You're... leaving again?" She stared in confusion, the tension in her shoulders loosening.

"Us mortals have these things called jobs, you see. I really need to come in today, but don't worry, I'll take a few weeks off so we can spend more time together." He patted her on the head in the way of farewell, then yanked his hand back when she snapped at him like a rabid dog.

"Wait," she called out as he was leaving. "What if I need to... there's no..."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"I need to use the restroom, you wanker! Do you get off on humiliating me like that?"

He blinked at the accusation. "Actually, I didn't know demons _needed_ to go to the loo. Huh. Guess you lot have to eat and drink too." He furrowed his brows, then waved his wand and conjured a bucket. "Use this until I come up with something better. My house elf will take care of the cleaning."

She gaped at it before unleashing a litany of expletives insulting his parentage, questioning his intellect, and belittling certain bits of his anatomy. Harry shook his head and marched up the stairs as her swearing switched from English to what didn't sound like a human language at all.

* * *

Evening found him circling the basement to layer enchantments over each corner as he consulted a thick volume he brought with him for reference. Gleaming violet eyes watched him from a shadowy nook.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, you're going to like this." He snapped the book shut. "The spellwork's meant for hospital patients, prisoners, pets during transit—not sure which definition best applies to you. Basically, it removes your need to eliminate waste. Isn't that amazing? Magic still manages to surprise me to this day."

She shook her head. "Bloody crackpot."

"You wound me, Fia," he said, putting a palm over his chest. "I'm doing this for your comfort."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that."

"Aw, why not? It's cute." He smirked when her tail flicked angrily. "That reminds me, I brought you a nutritional potion. I have no clue what demons normally eat, but if you can tolerate our food, it shouldn't do any harm."

He produced a bottle from his inner pocket, uncorked it, and took a sip to show it was safe before proffering it to her. Fiamette edged closer, chain jangling, and accepted it. She sniffed the bottle before pressing it to her lips and upending it.

He watched in satisfaction until she suddenly jerked forward and spat the potion in his face. The empty bottle conked him on the forehead. He jumped back, sputtering, and raised his wand to clean himself off.

"The hell was that for!"

She crossed her arms. "As if I'd accept anything from my captor. I have my pride."

"Then I guess I'll start working on you earlier than I planned. I would've given you a break, but you brought this upon yourself, _Fia_." He gave her a dark look, and she shivered, even forgetting to complain about the shortening of her name.

He returned not ten minutes later, clutching a small box under his armpit. Pointedly ignoring his captive, he unreeled a long chain from a winch and levitated it through an iron ring on the ceiling.

Leaving the end of the chain dangling in the air, he set the box down on a table and lifted the lid to retrieve a pair of leather manacles. Unlike the other implements, these were brand new.

"What are you going to do?" Fia sounded meek, anxious, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't an act.

"Discipline you until you learn your position," he said evenly. "Extend your hands."

Backing into her corner, she folded her arms defiantly.

"See? This attitude is exactly what we need to fix." He rapped the manacles with his wand, and they flew toward her, clasping snugly around her wrists.

She gasped, in surprise rather than pain. After all, he purchased the handcuffs in a specialty shop, the kind you couldn't enter unless you were of age, and they were all about pleasing their clientele rather than hurting them—although, to be fair, there was some overlap.

He exploited her distraction to unbuckle her collar from the chain tying her to the wall and dragged her into the middle of the room. Once she began resisting in earnest, it was too late: he affixed the chain that linked the manacles to the thicker one dangling from the ceiling.

The winch creaked as he turned it, pulling Fia's shackled hands upward until her arms were fully extended but she was still standing comfortably on her soles, if unable to take a step in any direction. His pulse quickened, as much from nervousness as from anticipation.

"What should we start with, hmm? The cat o' nine tails?" He glanced at a multi-tailed whip ending in cruel barbs. "The wooden horse? The Catherine wheel? The iron maiden, perhaps?"

She remained silent, her gaze downcast, but her tail wagged agitatedly. He grasped her cheeks and forced her to look him in the eye.

"Would any of it—_all_ of it—even come close to what you had prepared for me down in your plane?"

He fancied the alarm in her eyes genuine, but her voice showed no sign of it. "Not even _close. _You mortals are naive to think you know anything about torture. We perfected it into an art form! Our masters could make you spill your darkest secrets before so much as _touching_ you."

"Splendid," he said blandly. "I know little about it, true, so I figure we start slow. Simple."

He crossed the room, her slit pupils tracking him unblinkingly, her shoulders drooping a fraction as he passed the rusty iron maiden; she had to have been posturing after all. He bent over his box to retrieve its rather more harmless contents.

Craning her neck, Fia stared incredulously. "_This_ is the brutality you're going to subject me to? _Feathers_?"

He suppressed a grin. "Don't knock it till you try it."

Despite her scornful words, he could see her tense as he strolled behind her back. Her fiery hair was still bound in a ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck; perhaps he'd start there. Raising one feather, he brushed the tip against her skin.

The muscles of her shoulder twitched in reaction, and he smirked, letting go. The enchanted feather hovered where he left it, imitating him as it gently tickled her.

He circled her, trailing feathers across her exposed skin in search of more sensitive spots: her collarbone, her slender waist, her bellybutton. She watched him with an almost indignant expression on her face.

"Honestly, I'm embarrassed for you," she scoffed. "Whatever it is you're trying—"

Her breath hitched as a feather skimmed up her armpit, and he grinned as he left it to do its work. "You were saying?"

She glared, her cheeks coloring slightly. "What are you going to do—_tickle_ me to death?"

"Would it work?" he asked distractedly as he trailed the third feather down her slender leg. Her inner thigh just below her shorts elicited a shiver unlike the ticklish jolts earlier, and he left a feather there.

"Don't be ridiculous." Her voice came out an octave higher, and she averted her gaze.

Encouraged, he continued adding and adjusting the feathers. He wanted her on the edge rather than bursting with laughter. Varied, unpredictable stimulation she wouldn't get used to.

Stepping back, he admired the fruits of his labor. Fia's cheeks were flushed, her body alternatively tensing and relaxing as the chain holding her up by the wrists jangled. Noticing his glee, she straightened up and glowered, but couldn't help squirming when a feather swept across her taut belly. Growling, she swatted at it with her tail.

Harry glanced at the last feather in his hand—yes, why not. Stepping behind her, he contemplated the hole under the waistband of her shorts that accommodated her limber tail. Experimentally, he whisked the tip of the feather against its base.

Her tail stiffened, and she let out a squeak. Grinning, he taught the feather to glide around the unexpectedly sensitive spot before leaving it to its devices. Her tail fluttered side to side, but there was no escape from the relentless teasing.

When he faced her, she was biting her lip and glaring at his toys.

"Well?" he said. "Feel like becoming my obedient slave yet?"

"Go bugger yourself," she said, squirming.

He shrugged. "Your loss. I'll just leave you to ponder things for a while. A couple hours should suffice." He stepped in, so close he smelled her sandalwood-like scent. "Don't count on it, though. I'm so exhausted from yesterday, I might just go to bed and leave you to stew overnight."

She reared her head and tried to ram her horns into his face, but with the chain holding her back, it was little more than a tap. "Do your worst, human."

Wrapping his hands around a horn, he wrenched her neck backward and leaned in to whisper into her pointy ear. "Be careful what you wish for."

The way her eyes widened helplessly was immensely satisfying.

* * *

In the end, he didn't go through with the threat and dropped by several hours later. Fia raised her head as he descended the stairs, but her glare was spiritless. A flush colored her skin, her chest was heaving—and were those tear tracks on her cheeks, or just sweat?

He rotated the winch to lower the chain, then waved his wand to unclasp the manacles. She groaned, swaying on the spot, then narrowed her eyes at him as if daring him to taunt her. Her legs trembled as she rubbed her wrists.

Wordlessly, he led her to the wall and attached the shorter chain to her collar again; her resistance was only perfunctory. Stepping back, he conjured her a blanket.

She reclined carefully, making sure there was enough slack in the chain, and gave him a baffled look. "You're letting me rest?"

"Only until tomorrow. Sleep is important." After years of nightmares, he knew that better than most.

"Your attempts are an insult to the word 'torture'," she said with vague indignation. "You can't possibly think this would break me."

He yawned, snuffing out the lamps with a gesture. "Yeah, yeah."

"You're weak! Soft! Pathetic..."

He trudged up the stairs and shut the door behind him.

* * *

The next day, Harry came at noon carrying a platterful of sandwiches. Ham, cheese, bacon, tomato—his elf Melly had prepared some for every taste. He set it down, picked one at random, and nibbled on it, casting side glances at his prisoner.

Fia watched him with a hungry intensity. She did drink the water Melly brought her, he knew, but left the nutritional potions untouched, and he was getting worried. Well, only insofar as her fainting from starvation would rob him of the thrill of attempting to break her.

He finished the sandwich, brushed the crumbs off his chin, and picked up the platter. "Fancy some?"

Fia remained silent. Taking that as an invitation, he walked up and extended the food towards her. Slowly, her hands reached out to accept it, and Harry's lips quirked up at the small achievement.

As he stepped back to give her space, she sprang to her feet and slung the platter at him. The sandwiches splattered wetly on the floor, while the silvery disc whacked him on the forehead; he staggered back and rubbed his brow, finding it slick with blood.

He gave Fia a glare, then set about cleaning things up, her taunts falling on deaf ears. Once the mess was gone and his forehead no longer bleeding, he addressed her again.

"I admit, I'm rather averse to wasting food. A consequence of my childhood, perhaps."

"Is that why you were such a runt during our first meeting? Poor wittle baby not getting enough to eat?" She sneered. "Blame your own weakness! If your begetters aren't providing, you go out and pilfer what you need."

The spike of anger faded quickly as his Occlumency kicked in. What had he been thinking, opening up to her? He sighed. "Remember, you brought this upon yourself."

He spoke no more as he unchained her collar, clamped the leather manacles on her wrists, and attached them to the chain in the middle of the room, again forcing her to stand upright with hands raised overhead. She merely stared haughtily, secure in her perceived victory. His ire rose.

"Diffindo."

A jet of pastel green sliced the shoulder strap of her tight bodice, leaving her skin intact. She peered down, and her composure cracked at last.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Escalating. My first attempt was too soft, you've said so yourself." He tapped his wand against his palm. "Perhaps, if you were willing to apologize..."

"Get bent," she spat.

His wand swished in a barrage of Severing Charms, turning Fia's leather top into strips that dropped to the floor. Her supple breasts were bared, drawing his gaze. There were no tan lines on her olive skin, and her dusky nipples stood out in little buds.

An aghast expression crossed her face, but once she met his gaze, it had gone without a trace. "Why, Harry," she purred, "if this is what you wanted, you should've just asked."

He arched an eyebrow. "This?"

The chain jangled as she tiptoed closer and tossed her flowing hair. "Few humans experience the pleasure of laying with a demoness. I could show you things you haven't even dreamed of."

Locking his eyes with hers, he closed the distance between them. His fingers trailed down her belly before tugging at the string tying her shorts. As their front parted, his fingers encountered soft fabric beneath.

Her lips curved into a triumphant smile, and her tail coiled around his leg, its heart-shaped tip caressing his crotch through his trousers. "Go on," she whispered huskily, "undo this pesky collar, and I'll rock your world."

"If I ever _lay_ with you, it'll be on my terms." He yanked the shorts down her shapely thighs.

Her smile morphed into a snarl, and he stepped back reflexively; then his eyes landed on her exposed underwear, and his jaw sagged.

Pink knickers. Pink knickers adorned with a stylized picture of a cat. There was no other word for them but _cute_.

He raised his gaze, found her _blushing_, then resumed his inspection by circling her. The back of the undergarment had a hole to let her tail through, and its edges were hemmed by someone clearly amateur at needlework. What truly confounded him, however, was the white tag peeking from under the waistband. He pulled it out, ignoring her squirming, and had to rub his eyes before he believed what he was seeing.

"_Made in Malaysia_? I didn't know demons shopped Muggle."

"Would you shut up about demons this, demons that!" she exclaimed. "I'll have you know _we_ were the ones who taught your ancestors how to dress themselves when they were living in caves!"

"Did you teach them yourself?" Harry walked around to face her, not bothering to disguise his curiosity.

"Well, not _personally_," she said in a defensive tone. "Going by your time, I was only born a century and a half ago."

He snorted. "Ah. Practically a moppet, then."

"I'm still ten times more experienced and mature than you," she shot back.

He glanced down at her kitty panties. "Yes, I can see that."

"If you had to wear imp-sewn clothes, you'd understand! They chafe and are ugly—" She bit her tongue. "Okay, so humans _do_ make some good things. There's nothing shameful about me using the handiwork of your lesser species! You lot serving us is just the natural order of things."

Her crimson cheeks combined with her lecturing tone was too much; for the first time in what felt like years, Harry laughed heartily. "Listening to you like this, you almost seem like an ordinary girl. Not the scary, murderous demon who haunted my nightmares for seven years."

The chain clinked as she stepped closer, snarling. "Do you realize how insulting it is for one of my kind to be compared to one of yours? Know your place, puny human." Her eyes blazed, and her toned muscles bulged.

A pang of his old fear returned, his gaze flicking to her collar to make sure it was intact, but he suppressed it and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'll make you beg this puny human to spare you."

Whether it was the certainty in his tone, or his chest brushing her bare breasts, but she shivered slightly. Smirking, he drew back and set about making preparations.

First, he winched her hands a fraction higher, to the point where she could barely stand on the flats of her feet. He admired the way the position accentuated her breasts before ducking to rummage inside a cabinet. Surfacing with a length of jute rope, he tied it to an iron ring on the wall in front of his captive.

Whistling, he unrolled the rope and ran it between her feet. She craned her neck as he went to the opposite end of the room and threaded the rope through a matching iron ring. He pulled the rope through, making it rise off the floor.

Fia scooted to the side as the coarse material brushed her inner calf on the way up before settling between her thighs. "Hey, what's the big—"

He yanked the rope to remove the slack, and Fia sprang to her tiptoes with a squeak. Deftly tying it to the ring, he smirked at his prisoner. She wriggled gingerly as she sought a more comfortable position, but with the rope taut against the junction of her thighs, she was forced to remain on her tiptoes lest it dig in harshly.

Given her superhuman strength, perhaps standing on her tiptoes for hours on end wouldn't have posed an issue, but he didn't intend to make it easy. With a wave of his wand, he made an array of feathers dance out of the box they had been stored in.

Despite her earlier derision, she seemed wary, and he stopped short of activating his fluffy toys. "Feel like asking for forgiveness yet?"

"Bring it on," she scoffed.

He was only too happy to oblige. Plucking one feather from the air, he brushed it against the curve of her hip, watching goosebumps erupt on her skin. "Looking forward to it much?"

"As if, you deviant." Her voice hitched as he left the first feather to its work and swept a second one across the back of her knee.

He laughed. "That's rich, coming from you. Do demons even have morals?"

"Morals are for the weak. The strong rule, that is all."

"How convenient." He trailed the third feather up her abdomen until it tickled the underside of her breast. She tensed as he slowly moved it higher, dragging its edge over her nipple and making her inhale audibly. "Since I'm the strong one, you should have no objections to being treated like my plaything."

"Fuck you," she gasped out.

Grinning at the obvious effect the feathers were having, he leisurely put the rest of them to the task. Her nape, her inner thighs, her breasts; nothing was spared from the sweet torture. No longer talking back, she screwed up her face and concentrated on remaining on her tiptoes.

The cord of her tail flicked, drawing his attention, and recalling her reaction yesterday, he brushed the last feather up and down its length. Fiamette twitched and sank to the soles of her feet, straining the rope down, before gasping and straightening up. She seemed unable to stand still, squirming to and fro to shrink back from the relentless teasing, the rough rope rubbing her panties with every motion.

He cast an appraising eye over her. "This is a good look for you. How long should I leave you like this, I wonder... until evening, perhaps?"

"S-see if I care." Despite the rancor in her tone, her cheeks were flushed and her expression betrayed her discomfort.

He slapped her panty-clad butt, laughing when she sank down onto the rope. Her curses echoed in his ears as he trudged up the stairs, pausing at the top for one last leer at her helpless form.

* * *

Throughout the day, he found himself giddy with anticipation, but managed to stay away from the basement; if the wait felt long to him, it would be unbearable for the unrepentant demoness. Therefore, it was only when the sky outside the windows darkened that he set down the book he was skimming listlessly and went to check up on her.

Upon entering the basement, he halted and drank in the sight before slowly continuing down the stairs. Fia's tan skin glistened with sweat, and the fringe of her crimson hair was matted to her forehead. At his approach, she rose to her tiptoes, her legs trembling, but only remained in this position for a couple of seconds before slumping atop the rope and biting her lip to muffle a moan.

The glower she directed at him was hardly threatening. Her cheeks were flushed and her lower lip puffy. Hours of feathery caresses left her nipples puckered and her tail fluttering feebly. His eyes widened when he noticed her panties had darkened at the bottom; she was positively _soaked_. Were it not for the wards making that impossible, he would've suspected her of soiling herself.

He walked up to her, breathing in the faint scent of her arousal. She didn't attempt to stand anymore, dangling limply from the manacles.

He grinned. "How's it hanging?"

"I hate you so much." Her glare could have melted glaciers, but her voice was unsteady.

"Do you now?" He glanced down at the rope burrowing into her wet crotch and tugged on it. Whining, she backpedaled and arched her feet to stand higher. "From the looks of it, you rather enjoyed yourself."

"W-who would... something like... sick pervert."

"You didn't like it?" he asked with mock surprise. "I suppose you'll be wanting me to let you down, then." He waited for a beat. "Well?"

Her ragged breathing was the only sound before she mumbled.

"I can't hear you." He yanked on the rope.

"Yes!" she cried, staring at him with misty eyes.

"There we go. That wasn't so hard, was it? There's just one thing I need you to do first." He met her eyes; her slit pupils were dilated, nearly rounded. "Look at yourself."

She glowered before grudgingly ducking her head.

"You drenched your panties with your nasty cunt juice. Hell, even the rope. Care to explain why?"

She turned away, her rosy cheeks burning brighter.

"Silence, huh. Just so you know, I'm considering leaving you like this overnight." He saw her shoulders tense. "But it's not really torture if you're enjoying it this much, is it?" He leaned in to whisper into her ear. "Admit it—_you're_ the sick one here, getting off on being dominated by a human."

She whirled on him, but the sudden motion made the rope dig into her flesh, and a whimper escaped her throat. He stared her down, daring her to talk back. She averted her gaze. Smirking, he shooed the feathers away, untied the rope, and unclasped the manacles. Moaning in relief, Fia collapsed to her knees.

"Back to your cot," he ordered.

Her legs quivered as she struggled to stand, and after watching for several seconds, he deemed it wasn't pretense. Sighing, he gathered her up in his arms, and ignoring her startled protest, carried her to the corner. Her skin was hot to the touch, as if feverish, but he knew from his studies that was just the way demons were.

He put her down on the cot. She plopped down in a W-shape and reclined against the wall, quivering slightly, her red hair falling to her breasts. Sensing his gaze, she clapped her hands over her chest and pressed her legs together. Seeing her act so meek was more gratifying than her nudity.

"Take off your knickers." She scooted back, and he rolled his eyes. "You can sleep in those, or I could get my elf to wash them for you. Whichever you prefer."

She stared at him for a long moment. "Turn away."

He smirked. "Ordering _me_ around, now?"

She glowered, then pulled the blanket over herself and stuck her hands underneath. He watched her wriggle awkwardly with a growing grin.

"Done? My elf will pick them up and bring them back come tomorrow."

"At least give me something to wear in the meantime," she said, clutching the blanket to her chest. "Oh, excuse me—I forgot you were a voyeuristic degenerate."

He shook his head in exasperation. "I don't have any women's knickers around. If you're cooperative, I might get Melly to pick some up for you. Now, one more thing... hands behind your back."

He summoned the manacles, and Fia curled into a ball, her eyes fearful. Snorting, he wrestled her hands behind her back—she was weakened, shaky—and clasped on the manacles, reducing the length of the chain between her wrists so they were almost fastened together. Lastly, he grasped the edge of the fallen blanket and threw it over her naked body.

She stared as if disbelieving that was all he would do before tugging at her manacles. "What happened to letting me sleep?"

"Oh, but I am," he said with a grin. "I fear if I free your hands, you're going to spend all night touching yourself and not rest properly for what's coming tomorrow."

Her mouth formed an O. "You're delusional!"

"I don't know," he drawled, looking down pointedly. Fia sputtered when she followed his gaze to the bundle of wet pink fabric that had been revealed from under the blanket. "Considering you're someone who gets off on being humiliated by an enemy, I can't be too careful."

For once, she didn't hurl insults at him as he left. His lips stretched into a grin. He had been worried she would sniff out the lust potion he had laced the water with, and thus only used a couple of drops, but even then, it was clearly having an effect. Either that, or she was every bit the pervert she had accused _him_ of being.


	4. Demon, Part Three

When Harry descended into the basement the next morning, he was surprised to find Fiamette still snoring under her blanket. He sneaked closer, captivated by the peaceful look on her face, but despite his careful approach, she stirred, revealing her fangs in a languid yawn before stiffening. She backed against the wall and brought her knees up to her chest, her wrists still bound.

"Morning," he said cheerfully and proffered a bowl of fruit salad. "Breakfast?"

She glowered at him with blatant hostility.

"Suit yourself." He perched cross-legged on the floor and set the bowl in his lap. Picking up a fork, he speared a cube of mango and ate it with exaggerated gusto. "Mm. It's pretty good, you know. Sure you don't fancy a bite?"

Her stomach gurgled and she averted her gaze, her cheeks pinkening. Surmising that her pride wouldn't allow her to ask him for anything, he stabbed a strawberry and extended it to her. Her nostrils flared and she went almost cross-eyed as she beheld it.

"It's not poisoned. Could eat it myself, if you like." He drew the fork back a fraction.

Something akin to panic passed over her face, and she leaned to snatch the strawberry off the fork. She chewed and swallowed with a hum of pleasure. Harry grinned, then bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to show how pleased he was. The flavor of the fruit would mask that of the potion they were infused with.

Her eyes narrowed. "Wipe that smirk off your face! I simply decided to build up my strength so I can kill you later."

"Sure thing. Another one?" He picked out a piece of pear.

Not meeting his gaze, she murmured, "_Yes_."

Her reactions were adorable, as much as those of a bloodthirsty demoness could be. A grapefruit wedge made her wrinkle her nose, kiwi elicited a widening of her violet eyes, and after scarfing down a pineapple cube, she licked the juice off her plump lips with relish.

He asked idly, "Don't you have fruit in your plane?"

She considered him before deigning to answer. "Not like these. It is a harsh and unforgiving place where only the strong survive. We take pleasure in eating not for the taste, but for the strength that we gain from it."

"You seem to be enjoying the taste quite a lot, though."

She shrugged. "There's no shame in indulging in pleasure, as long as one doesn't grow weak and complacent."

He smirked. "You'd know all about growing complacent, wouldn't you?"

"It was sheer luck!" she growled. "A fluke of fate, bestowing you with the accursed blood of an extinct clan!"

"Perhaps. Doesn't change the fact that you underestimated me." Spearing another piece of fruit, he gave her a promising smile. "Eat. You'll need your strength for what's coming."

She vacillated, long enough that the hand he had extended began shaking, but ended up biting into the fruit with resignation. When she spoke next, the fury had gone out of her voice.

"What is it you're hoping to achieve, mortal? Your methods, as... unorthodox as they are"—she shifted on her knees—"will never break me. Sooner or later, you'll slip up, or the protections woven into this collar will dwindle, and I shall be free to take my revenge. Whether it takes months or years makes little difference to me."

He tilted his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't see the point of your actions! Had our roles been reversed, I would have flayed you alive, gutted you, and strangled you with your own entrails!"

"How graphic," he murmured. "Sorry, please go on."

"Yet you... you do _this_!" She jutted her chin at the bowl in his hands. "So I ask again, what is your goal?"

"Oh, that's simple," he said casually. "I want you in the same position you put me into. I want you to become mine."

She gaped. "Are you listening to yourself? You can't make a soul pact under duress—the subject has to agree of their own free will!"

"Yet you tricked me into one, which means there are loopholes. And even if there aren't any..." He stood, giving her a cold look. "I'll enjoy searching for them. Seven years I lived in fear and constant preparation. I won't give up until I take from you at least that much."

She appeared about to speak, but a flick of his wand yanked the blanket off her, leaving her stark-naked. He spied a patch of trimmed red hair above her smooth mons before her tail snaked in and covered her crotch with its heart-shaped tip.

Squeezing her legs together, she fixed him with a glare, but he turned his back to her and waved his wand in a well-practiced pattern of the Levitation Charm. When a massive wooden horse rose from its corner and zoomed into the middle of the room, he heard a sharp intake of breath and allowed himself a satisfied smile she wouldn't see.

"I thought such barbaric measures were beyond you?" The unease in her tone seemed genuine.

Harry scrutinized the horse. It was made of four thick poles affixed at slight angles below a triangular wooden prism. The surface was darkened with age—no one alive knew when it had been used last—but the wood remained solid and uncracked. Magic had a way of preserving things long past their natural lifespan.

He ran his fingers along the topmost edge before spelling the dust off. It was smooth and slightly rounded—far from comfortable, but it shouldn't hurt _too_ much.

Schooling his expression, he faced her. "Seeing how much you enjoyed my last attempt, I decided to spice things up a bit. Wingardium Leviosa!"

Fia squeaked indignantly as she floated past him and over the horse, lashing out with her legs and even her tail, but he stepped away, and her flailing turned out to be for naught.

"Insolent mortal, I'll carve your eyes out of your skull and feed them back to—"

He canceled the levitation, and she cried out as she plummeted the last inches that separated her from the wooden horse. Her knees slid down the smooth sides until her bare crotch collided with its blunted top.

Writhing, she sought him out with misty eyes. "I'll—I'll make you pay..."

"An amusing threat, given your current position."

He attached the chain hanging from the ceiling to the manacles behind her back, then turned the winch until she was forced to bend forward. Unable to brace with her palms, her weight rested largely on the junction of her thighs. He could see the muscles of her legs flex as she attempted to hold herself up against the horse's sides.

"So much for your moral superiority," she gasped out. "Even a goody-two-shoes like yourself wants to see his enemy suffer, no?"

"Oh, we've barely even started! I already know demons can take a lot of punishment, so appealing to my benevolence won't work." He smirked. "Do feel free to beg for mercy, though."

She laughed breathlessly. "Showing your true colors at last... Do as you like. You'll only lay bare your depravity while I stand defiant."

"As you wish."

He took his time rummaging in a cabinet because he knew the delay would stoke her anxiety. Surfacing with a riding crop, he bent it experimentally before letting go. It straightened with a snap, making Fia turn her head sharply.

Savoring her fearful expression, he languidly circled her naked form. He stopped by the winch and raised her hands a fraction higher, then paused to admire the view. Her supple breasts were hanging down, nipples hardened, and her hair fell in a fiery curtain. Her round ass was exposed and ripe for punishment, her tail flicking nervously.

She craned her neck to observe him as he stepped behind her. When he raised the crop and swiped down, she winced even though it hadn't landed anywhere near her body. Smirking, he swung it around to get a feel for it before abruptly laying a light swat across her bottom. Her hips jerked, her tail stiffened, and a groan left her lips.

"Quite a reaction," he mocked, stepping around to her other side. "Could it be that you're not so tough after all?"

"Fuck you—_eek_!"

Harry smirked as he swatted her other butt cheek. "Tut-tut, that's no way for you to address your master."

"Who's a master, you miserable hypocrite!"

He laid the crop atop a faint pink rectangle marking her skin, and the gentle contact made her shiver in anticipation. Rearing his hand, he delivered another whack, but this time, she didn't move and remained silent.

Frowning, he used more strength and was rewarded with a jerk of her hips and a muffled whimper. Encouraged, he alternated between her cheeks, filling the basement with thwacks and painting red imprints across her wriggling behind.

Her tail abruptly bent down, and his next blow connected with its black cord, making her shriek. He clicked his tongue.

"Now now, we can't have you hurting yourself," he said with fake concern. "That's _my_ job. But what to do... Ah."

A quick Sticking Charm glued the spade of her tail to the small of her back, leaving her ass defenseless. His resumed spanks made her whimper as her tail twitched helplessly.

Pausing, he walked around to revel in her pained expression before leaning in to whisper. "You know how to end this, Fiamette."

"Y-you're delusional if you think this'll work," she said through gritted teeth.

"I don't mean signing over your soul to me, necessarily." He flexed the crop in his hands. "Simply apologize. Say you're sorry for tricking me, for everything you put me through, and I'll let you off for the day."

Snarling, she tossed her head back to meet his eyes. "Fool! I don't have to apologize for doing something natural to my kind. You humans are little more than cattle to us."

"That so," he drawled, his resolve hardening. "Looks like I'll have to fix your attitude the hard way."

Walking back, he grabbed onto her arse and squeezed the pliant flesh roughly before slapping it with his palm. The crop followed with a resounding smack, making her cry out and arch her back as much as her suspended arms allowed. Giving her no respite, he rained blows on her jiggling arse, turning more and more of her olive skin an angry red.

"How do you like that, huh?" he growled.

It looked like she wanted to speak, but it was lost among the whimpers that unceasingly escaped her throat. Her body jerked and her supple breasts bounced with every blow. His arm began to tire, and he switched to his left, a dark satisfaction suffusing him.

Breathing heavily, he regarded the red stripes that crisscrossed her behind and shook his head. Letting loose was cathartic, certainly, but he couldn't let his rage get into the way of his ultimate goal. He wanted her sore, not injured.

"Phew... That was great for working off my frustrations," he said, almost to himself.

Fia's eyes were teary and her hair matted, but when her slit pupils zeroed in on him, she smiled wryly. "Is that it? I barely felt it, and your stamina is pitiful."

Squashing his irritation, he returned the smile. "Wizards are frail creatures—you've said so yourself. Luckily, we have magic to compensate."

The smile vanished off her face as he drew his wand. He sketched the shapes of an advanced animation charm before aiming at the riding crop and vocalizing the incantation. As the crop floated up, he took hold of it and smacked Fia's behind.

She gasped out loud, perhaps more out of surprise than pain. He spanked her, gentler than before, mixing in light caresses of the sensitized skin with the crop's end. Once he let go, the crop hovered above Fia's stinging behind for several moments before swatting it on its own accord.

Harry circled to her front to find her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pursed in a fierce struggle to stay quiet and still—yet she couldn't help the little twists of her hips as the spanks rained on her bottom, her breasts swaying hypnotically with her motions. Once she noticed his presence, her eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, yes," he said, relishing her dismay. "I'm pretty handy with animation, so I reckon it could go on for _weeks_. Feel like giving in yet?"

She closed her eyes and ducked her head, but they flew open when he brushed her hair off her face. Growling, she made to nip at his hand like a wild beast, then grimaced when the abrupt motion made her groin rub on the wooden horse.

"And you call _us_ uncivilized," he said. "Keep this up, and I'll see about acquiring something to gag that mouth. For now... this'll have to do."

A flick of his wand summoned the silken inset of the box that held his toys, and he folded it into a rectangular strip before laying it across Fia's eyes. She squirmed, but her resistance was feeble, and he was able to tie it behind her head.

His fingertips brushed the edge of her ear, and he marveled at the knife-like shape. "This is your world now, Fia. Nothing but darkness and unceasing torment. Nothing but those things, for as long as I deem fit." She appeared to be listening even as she panted for air. "As fun as this is to watch, I've got business to attend to. Try not to break down before I return, alright?"

When he was halfway to the stairs, Fia gave an incoherent cry. He pivoted, his lips stretching into a smile. "Something you want to tell me?"

From what he could see under the blindfold, her expression was hesitant, and her mouth opened as though to speak. Yet a second later, she bit her lip and ducked her head.

He watched her wiggle in ineffectual attempts to reduce her discomfort before turning to leave. This time, it wasn't her angry curses that accompanied him up the stairs, but the steady smacks of the animated crop.

* * *

Hours later, ensconced underneath his invisibility cloak, Harry crept down the basement stairs. The sconces along the wall remained lifeless, and the room was only scarcely illuminated by the lamps farther in.

Soft mewls reached his ears, decidedly different from the pained whimpers he had elicited from Fia earlier that day, and when his eyes centered on her bound form, he couldn't help but ogle her.

Oblivious to his presence, she straddled the wooden horse with bent knees, rhythmically rocking her hips back and forth. Her swollen lips were parted, and her cheeks below the tear-dampened blindfold were flushed. Her breasts jiggled with her motions, sensual noises escaping her throat.

Licking his lips, he drew closer. The crop was barely swiping at her well-and-truly reddened bottom; despite what he had told her, he couldn't make the charm last very long. Rivulets of her wetness trickled down the sides of the horse and dripped to the floor. The ancient tomes Harry had consulted over the years spoke of the demons' hedonistic tendencies—the legends of succubi had to come from somewhere—but Fiamette's reaction was beyond his wildest expectations.

The little shakes of her hips were becoming faster, her whimpers breathless, her expression betraying her need. He parted his cloak and leaned in, unconsciously inhaling her scent.

"You're one kinky bitch, aren't you?"

She shrieked, actually rising an inch above the torture device before sliding down with a pained moan. Her blindfolded head whirled his way, and he jerked back to prevent her horns from carving another scar onto his forehead.

"Don't mind me," he said amiably. "Feel free to continue."

Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She hung her head, and when he untied the blindfold, squeezed her eyes shut. Her blush extended all the way to the pointy tips of her ears.

"What's it gonna be?" he asked. "I came down here to let you off, but I can leave you be for a couple of hours if you prefer. Just say the word."

She shook her head furiously, making her tangled hair sway.

"Are you sure?" He waited patiently, but aside from a fleeting, teary glance, she didn't acknowledge the question. As disappointed as he was not to hear her beg for mercy, this was a start. "Up you go, then."

He unclasped the manacles and levitated her off the horse. Fia hastened to cover up her engorged, reddened vulva and her chest. He smirked as he set her down on her cot. Her warm skin glistened, her inner thighs especially so. He waved his wand, vanishing sweat and other secretions, then attached the wall chain to her collar. Throughout it all, her eyes avoided meeting his.

"I do apologize for interrupting," he said with a cheek-splitting grin. Her ears twitched, but it didn't look like he was going to get a reply. "As an apology, my elf will come by shortly with some clothes. She even managed to tailor the kind of leather shorts you seem to favor."

No response forthcoming, he turned to leave. It was only after he took several steps that she spoke.

"My tail." Her voice was hoarse.

He pivoted, arching his eyebrows. "What about it?"

"It's glued to my back because of your stupid spell!" She turned sideways and pulled at the appendage. "I can't sleep like this."

"Ah, right... Tell you what, I'll free it if you say the magic word." He grinned expectantly.

"_Xyrrhes yshurruth aphr_," she deadpanned, then flinched and clutched at her silver collar.

He blinked. "Come again?"

"The primary invocation for hellfire," she ground out, blowing on her fingertips.

He chuckled. "I see. Well played, but you know what I meant."

He tapped his wand on an open palm as Fia worried her lower lip in an obvious inner struggle. She glanced at him before lowering her gaze again and parting her lips.

"Please," she whispered, her cheeks burning.

He suppressed an urge to cackle at seeing her so docile. "Since you asked nicely."

A nonverbal _Finite _ended the charm, and she breathed a sigh of relief, whipping her tail up and down. On an impulse, Harry came up to pat her head; Fia's eyes widened and she gave him a bewildered look.

"That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" he said.

She growled and swatted his hand away.


	5. Demon, Part Four

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry became a regular at the specialty shop, purchasing implements of delicious torture to test on his captive. The results varied, although the sessions rarely failed to leave Fia flushed and breathless despite her insistence otherwise. Only the hot wax turned out to be a little too comfortable, which considering the environment she came from, wasn't surprising. He was having such a blast coaxing involuntary reactions from her admittedly stunning body that waiting for her to crack was no hardship at all.

It was well into the third week of her confinement that he saw a sign of the daily torment getting to her. They were eating breakfast together as was becoming routine, Fia unabashedly scarfing down the yogurt and fruit. Her earlier defiance had gone without a trace, but Harry never rubbed it in: it was in his best interest to keep her healthy and full of energy, and dosed with potions to boot.

Her breasts were on full display, but after her repeated acts of dribbling food on them and asking him to clean her off failed to get a rise out of him, she no longer provoked him even if his gaze lingered. And linger it did, because even though he was getting used to the view, that pair was out of this world.

Fia's spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl, and she let out a contented sigh. Giving him a sideways glance, she spoke up.

"How do I take these off?"

"Hmm?" He gave her a look of mild curiosity, inwardly cheering.

Not meeting his eyes, she tapped a nail against the lock-shaped button on the leather shorts Melly had provided weeks ago. "It doesn't open."

He feigned confusion. "Why would you need it to? I told you, the magic in here takes care of all your sanitary needs."

"They're—it's—" Color seeped into her cheeks. "What's it to you? They're uncomfortable to sleep in."

"Odd." He made a show of pondering the conundrum. "They're enchanted for comfort, after all. Maybe I should ask her to sew a new pair."

She threw her hands up. "Why make me wear these in the first place?"

He furrowed his brows. "I thought that was your style. If you'd rather be naked again..."

"Forget about it." She huffed, then muttered under her breath, "_Freak_."

His cheek twitched but he managed to keep a neutral expression. "What was that?"

"Nothing. Your useless round ears must be playing tricks on you." She rolled her eyes. "So, what terrible tortures are you going to inflict on me today, oh cruel warden?"

"I was actually thinking of giving you a break since you've been so civil lately." He grinned. "Don't look so disappointed—I'll make sure to prepare something extra _stimulating_ tomorrow."

"I wasn't..." Her frown changed into a smirk, and she stretched her hands over her head, reclining against the wall. "Oh, I see how it is. You're running out of ideas! How about you admit your loss and set me free already?"

He rose to his feet and reached out to tousle her hair, to which she responded with her usual growling and clawing. "Look forward to tomorrow."

* * *

Fia ate in silence when Harry brought her a hearty meal the next afternoon. He could feel her speculative gaze on him while he cleaned up, but perhaps recalling his promise, she didn't make any snide remarks.

With measured steps, he walked over to the the medieval implements lining the walls. He passed the Catherine wheel, the rack, the torture chair, then hummed and backtracked. Brandishing his wand, he transported the chair into the center of the room. A Scouring Charm brightened the wood and made the iron manacles on its legs and armrests gleam in the lamplight. The latter had vicious spikes running along their inner surface.

He faced Fia. "Don't look so alarmed. You should know by now I don't intend to hurt you. At least not too badly."

"As if anything you can do would scare me," she scoffed, her eyes flicking off the chair to his. "You're merely a boy playing a role you're woefully inept at."

"And you're a big, scary demon who was captured by said boy." He smiled, approaching. "Let's get started, shall we? First, take those off." He jabbed his wand and murmured the unlocking phrase.

She sent him a suspicious look, yet her hand was already dipping to the waistband of her shorts. Her eyes widened when the button came undone, giving him a glimpse of pink lace underneath.

Fia gave him a baleful glance and buttoned up again. "I knew you had something to do with this idiotic thing! Whatever harebrained scheme you're entertaining—"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" He tapped his wand against his palm. "Take them off."

She crossed her arms. "If you want my garbs so much, come here and take them yourself."

He snorted. "And you were so eager to get them off yesterday. _Accio_!"

Squeaking, Fia plopped down on her butt and kicked in the air as the shorts were yanked off her legs, leaving only her panties to preserve her modesty. She winced and rubbed her bottom before draping her blanket over herself.

A swipe of his wand wrenched it away, and another unhooked her collar from the wall. He floated her into the chair, ignoring her flailing with practiced nonchalance.

"This would be a lot easier on both of us if you just obeyed my orders," he commented.

"Piss off." She spat at him, missing by several inches.

Sighing, he clasped the leather manacles around her wrists and bound her ankles with the iron ones attached to the chair. He then used the winch to raise her hands above her head, leaving enough slack for her to sit in relative comfort.

"There we go." Her cheeks were flushed from the brief struggle and her chest heaved, her fiery hair falling to her breasts. Her legs were spread so her kitty panties were in full view. "Not too uncomfortable, is it?"

Her eyes merely narrowed in response.

Unruffled, he continued speaking as he fetched his toys. "I could adjust the manacles, you know. Maybe even get you a cushion to sit on. All you need to do is ask."

"Why don't you adjust your face with that mallet over there?"

Harry chuckled. "It's nice to see you so sprightly. We're going to have _so_ much fun today." He brought his feathers over and spread them in the air, leaving them to hover on their own power.

"These again?" she scoffed. "They hardly impress anymore. As I thought, you're out of ideas."

"Don't be so quick to judge. I've added some improvements." One by one, he tapped the feathers with his wand, making them glow briefly, before touching Fia's head between her horns with a muttered incantation. She eyed him warily. "You'll understand soon enough."

He pinched a feather by the quill and ran its tip along her collarbone. Undeterred by the lack of reaction, he plucked another from the air to tease alongside her flat belly. She gave him a demonstrative yawn, but he could see goosebumps erupting along her skin.

Grinning, he set up the entire collection, paying particular attention to Fia's tail and inner thighs. By the time he got to her breasts, her nipples had hardened. Where the rest of the feathers moved with long, languid strokes, he set the last two to whisk around her small areolas with light, barely-there brushes. She finally tried to shift away, but the feathers followed her unrelentingly.

He drew back. Fia feigned indifference as usual, yet she couldn't help but twitch when the tips of the feathers found a particularly sensitive spot. Nodding to himself, he blindfolded her. She didn't bother resisting this time, instead giving him a deliberately bored look until the silky fabric covered her eyes.

He sighed. "I guess it's pointless to ask if you've had a change of heart. You know the drill—I leave, you stay alone in the darkness and think about my offer."

"The only thing I'll be thinking about is your head on a p-platter." Her tone was affectedly apathetic, but the stammer rather ruined the effect.

"Whatever makes you feel better."

He strode to the stairs, his hand dipping into his pocket to withdraw his invisibility cloak. He climbed to the door, opened it, and staying inside, slammed it shut. Draping the cloak over himself, he grinned wryly as he weaved a Silencing Charm before retracing his steps downstairs.

Fia's muscles tensed and her nostrils flared. Swearing inwardly, he masked his scent with another charm, then stood motionless as she swiveled her blindfolded head.

"I know you're there!" she cried, making him flinch. "Stop skulking around and come out, little prick!"

His mouth opened to retort, but he clamped his jaw shut in time. Fia appeared to be holding her breath to listen. After half a minute, she exhaled explosively, the chain holding up her wrists jangling.

He heaved a sigh of relief. She must've been screaming those same words at the empty basement since he caught her under his invisibility cloak two weeks ago. It would've been amusing to call her out on it, but he was after a bigger prize. Taking a breath to calm his racing heart, he observed.

Even though she remained seated on the chair, her posture couldn't have been more different. Whereas she was rigid and unyielding before he 'left', she now wiggled and tugged on the ceiling chain, attempting to inch away from the feathers despite it all being in vain. She made noises too, little growls of frustration that gradually turned into squeaks, and at one point, into a breathless titter.

Initially, he expected to get bored quickly, but whether because of seeing his enemy reduced to such a state, or some voyeuristic pleasure, he found he couldn't tear his gaze away. Sweat beaded on her brow, and the muscles of her abdomen contracted in tune with the feather whisking along her tail. She tossed her head, grimacing when her crimson locks stuck between her back and the chair.

Without warning, she screamed, straining against her bonds and thrashing around with what little freedom the chain allowed. Harry jumped back in shock. A moment later, her body went limp and she groaned with palpable frustration.

Her spry tail, which had been doing little but undulate behind her back, curved forward around her waist. He watched with silent amusement as she used it to swat blindly at the feathers for several minutes before giving up. Yet she didn't draw back her tail, instead trailing it up her belly and between her breasts.

She stilled, tilted her head, then swallowed. Her tail continued its journey around her breast, squeezing it. Its heart-shaped tip smacked away a feather to rub her erect nipple, and her lips parted in a moan.

Realizing he wouldn't need to wait long for her to cave in, Harry tiptoed closer. Fia shivered in a way she hadn't before, her breathing quickening. Unwinding her tail from her breast, she brought its tip to her lips and lavished it with her tongue before grazing it with her teeth. A muffled moan sounded.

Her mouth remained open as she lowered her tail to the junction of her thighs. Its glistening tip skimmed the band of her panties. Groaning impatiently, she flattened it against her belly and slid it down until it slipped under the waistband.

She sucked in a ragged breath before venturing lower. Her limbs trembled as the lump that was the tail's tip slithered beneath the pink fabric toward where she wanted it.

"_Fuck_," she whispered, biting her lip.

Her tail slid down, then up, and she mewled, clenching her hands into fists. The tentative motions of her tail sped up gradually.

He gulped and adjusted his crotch; his pants were tight all of a sudden. The sight was so alluring he wanted to let her continue, but she was having too much fun for his taste. Stepping closer, he stuck out a hand above the writhing cord of her tail, grinned, then grabbed it.

She screeched and flailed so violently he would've been worried about her injuring herself were she human. The ropy muscles of her tail tensed between his fingers, the tip whipping back and forth, but he held on, giving it a squeeze to show he meant business.

She winced and ceased struggling. Letting go of her tail, which promptly retreated behind her back, he shrugged off the cloak and nudged her blindfold upward.

"What were you doing?" he asked evenly. "No, wait, you don't have to say anything. _This_ is all the answer I need."

Having ducked her head in mortification, Fia saw his finger extend toward a wet patch on her knickers, nearly touching. Inhaling sharply, she turned away.

"Y-y-you and your tricks again! Lurking in the darkness, t-thinking yourself so smart! Depraved little peeper!"

Harry laughed. "And you fell for it again! So much for the famed craftiness of your kind." She glowered, her cheeks burning, but it only amused him more. "You can't explain _this_ away by—what did you call it a few days back—physiological response, can you?"

She blew her bangs out of her face and straightened up as much as she could. "Don't get so full of yourself! What I did wasn't—that is to say, it was a natural—we demons don't have hangups about these things—" She growled at his widening grin. "You've achieved nothing but humiliate me for a moment! Appreciate what you saw, because it won't happen again!"

"That's where you're wrong," he said pleasantly. "We're only getting started."

He wedged a knee between her legs and stooped to trail his fingertips up her thigh and to her knickers, feeling her heat radiate through the fabric. Fia's breath hitched when his fingers hooked around the waistband. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he yanked hard, ripping the panties off.

She cried out, her glimmering eyes peering at the ruined undergarment in his hand. As if in disbelief, she glanced down and squirmed before bringing her tail forward to cover her crotch.

"Oh no, I won't have that," he said, tossing the knickers over his shoulder. Crossing behind her, he stuck her tail to the back of the chair. "You'd just start pleasuring yourself the moment I leave. Are all demons this horny, or just you?"

"Are all humans this pathetic?" she shot back breathlessly.

"You're one to talk about being pathetic," he said, circling back to sweep his gaze over her bare skin.

She mustered a contemptuous look. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you took advantage of me. For all your high-and-mighty talk, you're nothing but a scumbag." She took a shuddering breath, wincing as the feathers kept teasing her. "Go ahead, take what you want. You must be so proud of yourself, you big strong wizard."

He rolled his eyes. "That's rich, coming from someone proud of tricking a child. And if you think I'm about to screw you, you're sorely mistaken. Not because of any qualms I might have, but because I believe that's exactly what you crave right now."

"Are you sure?" she purred. "I would feel ten times better than any human woman you might've been with."

He shook his head ruefully, realizing she had managed to draw him into another pointless argument. Fia changed her tune so quickly, he could rarely be sure of what was genuine and what was pretense. Even her earlier loss of control might've been an act... No, he couldn't let her get into his head.

"What's the matter, _Harry_?" she asked, misinterpreting his moment of reflection. "Let me show you what I can do. You know you want to."

He raised his wand for a Silencing Charm, then lowered it again. Stooping, he picked the ripped knickers off the floor.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll make you rue the day you were born for ruining my favorite pair! I had to open a portal to Asia just to catch the limited sale!"

His lips quirked up. "Don't worry, these will come in handy yet."

"What are you on about, cretin?"

"In keeping you quiet," he clarified.

Panicked realization crossed her face. His left hand darted out, squeezing her cheeks to open her mouth while his right shoved in the soaked fabric. She bent forward to spit it out, but a tap of his wand on her jaw and a whispered _Petrificus_ trapped the improvised gag between her lips.

"Sorry about that," he said airily as she made muffled protests. "It's difficult to concentrate with your constant yapping. Now, where were we..."

He eyed the feathers, still hard at work, and plucked the three that had drawn out the weakest reactions during his observation. Crouching before her, he drank in the sight of her vulva, pink flesh glistening tantalizingly between puffy outer lips.

He ran a feather up her inner thigh, then along her cunt, eliciting a shiver. Encouraged, he repeated the action on the other side. The last feather he held up, glancing up to meet her eyes with a smirk.

"You should be grateful, Fia. I'm going to give you _exactly_ what you wanted."

She shook her head, making noises through the gag.

"What's that? You can't wait? In that case, you're going to love this."

He tried not to let his excitement show as he spread her wider open with two fingers. Gripping the quill of the feather, he gently lowered its downy end toward the top of her slit. A thrill ran through him when she twitched in anticipation before he even made contact. He flicked the feather at her little clit, barely peeking out from under its hood.

Fia shuddered. "_Mmmph_!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said insincerely. "Was that too much? Let's try again."

He went at it indirectly, teasing the sides of the hood. After a minute of watching her react, he whisked the feather across the sensitive tip again, eliciting a tremor from her. Leaving the feather to its delectable task with some regret, he straightened up and flourished his wand.

The dozen of feathers reoriented themselves onto her erogenous zones, now enhancing their ministrations with new, unpredictable patterns. He watched her wiggle before nodding in satisfaction.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll enjoy this." He met her misty eyes. "This is where the improvements I mentioned come into play. You'll see soon enough."

He brushed his palm against her cheek, but she jerked away, growling through the knickers in her mouth. He smiled, nudged the blindfold over her eyes, and departed.


	6. Demon, Part Five

Harry paced in his study, watching the hands of the grandfather clock creep around with agonizing slowness. He had tried reading—a task he devoted at least an hour every day for the past seven years—but kept spacing off and couldn't absorb anything. Every undertaking he sought to distract himself with failed to hold his attention, his mind wandering back to his captive.

In the end, he slipped into a tracksuit and Apparated to the nearest park, where he ran laps until his nervous energy was expended. Soaked with sweat, he popped back to Grimmauld Place and luxuriated in a hot shower before crashing on an armchair in his study.

The gong of the grandfather clock jolted him out of his jumbled dreams. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the time with stunned disbelief. _Midnight_.

He sprang to his feet and located his wand. It was well past the usual time he would end whatever torment he chose for Fiamette that day, and considering the intensity of the current session, he had originally intended to cut it short.

Concern reared its head, but only for a moment. She was tough. More importantly, she deserved everything coming her way.

Wand in hand, he rushed downstairs, pausing before the basement door to smooth down his rumpled robes and comb his hair with his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and descended the stairs with measured steps. The sconces along the wall flickered on to light his way.

Fiammete was twitching feebly in her chair but did not react to his presence. A carnal scent he recognized well hung in the air. He halted before her and inhaled sharply at what he saw.

Her head lolled, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty skin. Drool dripped from the soaked gag, down her chin, and onto her glistening breasts. Her nipples were pebbled and dark from the relentless teasing. The crimson triangle of her pubic hair was damp, her swollen petals parted as though begging for attention, her juices trickling out, a puddle gathered on the chair underneath.

The engorged bud of her clit throbbed each time the feather floated in to caress it before withdrawing. When he realized the accompanying wriggles of her hips were attempts to prolong the contact, not avoid it, his lips curved into a satisfied smile. No matter what she tried, the toy would never bring her to the height of pleasure.

"Hello, Fia," he said softly.

She did not reply. Frowning, he slid up the damp blindfold to find her hazy eyes staring into the void. She blinked at the light, and her gaze slowly focused.

"Enjoying yourself? Oh, where are my manners. _Finite_."

Though able to unclench her jaw now, she did not attempt to spit out the gag. He tugged the soggy bundle gently out of her mouth. A soft whimper escaped her throat, and her lips moved without a sound.

"Yes?" he prompted.

Straightening a little, she drew in a ragged breath. Her neck under the collar was reddened, suggesting she had tried to draw on her magic at some point. "How... long..."

"Ah, my bad." He scratched behind her horn, but she didn't even shy away. "I was so busy today it slipped my mind. But even without me, you've enjoyed yourself a great deal, haven't you?"

Fia gazed at him with confusion, then glanced down, her lips parting as she saw the state she was in. She pulled feebly at the chain holding up her wrists, then stiffened as a feather returned to tease between her legs. Her breaths came in gasps as it twirled around her clit, then flicked across, only to draw back just as her whimpers were reaching a crescendo. Groaning, she lifted her hips needily.

"You seem frustrated."

"Make it stop!" she cried, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. The strength of her voice gradually returned with each word that spilled out of her mouth. "Make it stop, make it stop, _please_, I'll do anything, by Lucifer I swear it, just make it—"

Her voice hitched as the stimulation resumed, the toys working in concert, intensifying their strokes across her nipples as another whisked the glistening edges of her labia. The Protean Charm linking their behavior had been but an experiment, but the results exceeded his expectations.

"_Yes_," she whimpered, the muscles of her abdomen rippling. Then the feather departed from her twitching cunt, the rest reverting to more languid motions, and she hissed. "These... accursed things... _how_?"

"Magic," he said smugly. "You still don't understand? It wasn't easy, but I made them learn. Try different things, see what brings you the closest to the edge, keeps you there the longest. But no matter what, they'll never grant you that sweet release."

The primeval part of his mind, the one that understood little besides basic concepts like friend or foe, rejoiced at her dismay. He allowed that dark joy to wash away any hesitation.

"You asked me to make it stop, but that's not what you really want, is it?" He watched as another wave of pleasure built up in her body, never cresting. "You want them to touch you _more_. You want them to focus on where it feels oh-so-good, and not stop until you get what you want. Isn't that right?"

Fia thrashed against her bonds, tears rolling down her cheeks as she was once again denied what she craved.

"Well?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

A few moments passed. She lowered her gaze and whispered, "Yes."

He found himself speechless. Was this another of her tricks? Coming closer, he put a finger under her chin and locked his eyes with hers.

"That's not going to happen," he said. "I'll leave again, and your torment will continue. Unlike _puny humans_ such as myself, my enchantments need no rest. They can't be reasoned with and don't know mercy."

If the panicked shake of her head was any indication, he was finally getting through to her. After looking her over one last time, he stepped toward the staircase.

"Wait, no, _please_—" Her words were cut off by a cry of frustration. He waited patiently for her to regain her breath. "You, you said—you p-promised you'd let me—let me rest at night—"

"That was back when I still hoped I could bring you to heel. An empty delusion, you said so yourself. Now? Now I'll settle for breaking you. You'll remain here for hours, days... weeks, if necessary. There are spells to keep you awake, conscious. What's going to happen to your body? Your mind?" He resumed walking. "Even demons have to have limits. I look forward to finding out what they are."

Barely a whisper carried to his ears. "Don't go." Then, louder, "Don't go! Don't leave me like this! Harry... I beg you!"

Turning, he waited in silence.

"Harry? Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so arrogant and—_gah, hellfire consume these things_—for tricking you. Please, if you leave, I'll—I'll—"

"You don't truly mean it, do you? You're just saying that to save yourself. Your kind don't feel—_can't_ feel remorse." His unhurried steps carried him back before her. She avoided his gaze, not denying his words. "I understand. You are what you are." He bent closer. "And _I'm_ what you made me."

Tears ran down her cheeks as she panted for breath. He stood before her, patient and unyielding.

"Curse you, mortal," she hissed. "Curse you, curse you, curse your entire bloodline—_ahh_!"

"Now you're being honest, at least," he said, brushing away her hair to take a better look at her contorted expression. She sobbed and sniffled, shamelessly wriggling her hips. "I'll give you one last chance to end this. You know what to do."

She opened her mouth, then gnawed her lower lip, her lust-darkened gaze glinting with hate, desire, and other emotions he couldn't place.

"It's alright, Fia," he crooned, leaning in so he felt her hot breath on his face. "There's no shame in submitting to someone stronger."

His fingertips skimmed her defined abs, and she gasped, leaning into the touch. Her cheeks, already flushed crimson, glowed even more brilliantly, yet she didn't pull away. Watching her face, he ventured below her patch of curly hair, his fingers slickening as they brushed her burning sex. His breath caught, and he ran a mental cantrip to clear the lust clouding his mind.

Gasping, Fia rocked her hips using what little freedom of movement she had, but he kept the contact light, barely teasing her wet vulva as he watched her anguished expression.

"Just a taste of what I can give you," he whispered. "Your turn."

She rubbed against his fingers as if not having heard him. He lifted his hand. The feather darted in again, and when Fia's lips parted in a moan, he shoved his slick fingers into her mouth. Her hot tongue swirled around them as she moaned louder before catching herself and turning her head aside, panting.

"My patience isn't limitless," he said, turning her chin to make her face him.

"You'll... pay. I'll make... you pay... tenfold." Her fang drew blood from her lower lip. "I, daughter of Saleos and Neaira—" Her expression twisted into a rictus of need as the feathery caresses resumed.

"Go on," he whispered with bated breath and stroked her cheek. Would it work, would her desire for _more_ torture rather than its cessation allow the pact to form?

"Swear myself... o-over... to you..." Her breath hitched as his hand moved down to cup her breast, giving her another promise of the reward that awaited her. "Swear to be your faithful servant... in return for—_eternal blaze_—touch me already!"

He drew back. Her face fell, and she broke into sobs that changed into helpless moans as the torture resumed once more.

"That's no attitude to take with your master, is it?" His heart raced, as much as from the near culmination of his plans as from desire. Never before had he such difficulty restraining himself around her.

"Please, I didn't mean it—Harry, I give—give myself—"

Unable to contain himself, he shrugged off his robes and tossed them aside. His shirt followed, then his trousers. Stepping closer, he slid down his boxers, and his cock sprang up, inches away from her face.

"Is this what you want?" he asked gruffly. "To be taken by me, like the demonic whore you are?"

She moaned, her cat-like pupils dilating. "By Gehenna, _yes_."

"Then show me." A wave of his wand unclasped the manacles, and she slumped over with a feeble cry. He unglued her tail before grabbing her horn and dragging her out of the chair. The cloud of feathers followed.

Her knees and elbows landed on his discarded robes in what had to be a painful impact, but she didn't seem to notice, her hand snaking between her legs and her eyes squeezing shut in bliss.

"Keep touching yourself, and you're going back into that chair."

Her eyes flew open. Blubbering apologies, she got on all fours and presented her dripping cunt to him. Planting his knees on the robe, Harry grabbed onto and kneaded her firm ass.

She trembled and sent a pleading look over her shoulder. Her tail bent back and poked around his crotch. He grunted in surprise as its cord coiled around his cock, then haltingly massaged it. The black skin was smooth and just as hot as the rest of her.

"Hurry," Fia whimpered, wagging her bottom at him, a string of wetness leaking from her sex.

It took unspeakable effort, but he forced himself to focus. "Do you swear to serve me, Fiamette?"

"By my name, I swear!" she cried. "Please, _anything_..."

"Good girl," he growled, emphasizing the words with a slap on her backside.

Heat flashed beneath his palm, and he yanked it back, but there was no damage to his skin. Instead, a red mark appeared on Fia's buttock, fading to a duller auburn before his eyes. A griffin with two wands crossed underneath. He stared, incredulous laughter bubbling up in his chest.

Fia hardly seemed to notice as she tugged his cock with her tail. "You p-promised." She slid one hand between her legs but collapsed face-first on the floor as the shaky muscles of her arm gave out. "Please!"

"Shush now." Inching forward, he allowed her to blindly guide him where she desired.

With a keening whine, she pulled him closer, her tail tightening almost painfully around him. When his crown kissed her entrance, she shuddered as if from electric shock. She thrust her ass back, and uncoiling her tail in a fluid motion, impaled herself onto him. His breath caught; her insides were so hot it felt like being scalded.

With a low moan, Fia went rigid, her tail stiffening into a straight line. A violent quake swept through her body, then another, as her scream rang in the basement. Her inner muscles spasmed with an intensity that had him grunting in surprise. He gritted his teeth and held on, steadying her bucking hips as her tail whipped about haphazardly.

It was unbelievable how long her climax lasted, and having her clench around him nearly made him follow suit. By the time she collapsed on the floor in a boneless heap, his own breathing was labored. Still he stayed connected with her, his cock pulsing with a need that, for the moment, trumped the joy of his success.

Aftershocks still shook her body, but he could wait no longer. Drawing his hips back, he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt. Fia stirred, her head turning weakly, her hair splayed over the floor. He started pumping.

"W-wait," she moaned.

"It's the servant's job to please her master. Not—not the other way around." _Hell_, was she tight.

"Let me... catch my breath," she pleaded, struggling to rise to her elbows.

Her objection fell on deaf ears. He plowed her quivering cunt, keeping her firmly in place by her hips. Her tail smacked weakly against his chest, and he grabbed on, angling it aside.

Fia whimpered, tightening around him. He slowed down to rub his thumb curiously along the black cord.

She gasped. "D-don't."

Smirking, he quickened his pace again, complementing his thrusts with gentle strokes along the root of her tail. The portion above his hand twitched and writhed, the tip looping around to prod his fingers, but her resistance was for naught. Fiamette moaned with his every motion, her arse smacking against his thighs.

He raised a hand to deliver a resounding slap on her bottom. As she cried out, he could feel her clench. Feeling himself getting close, he slowed despite his urge to ravage her.

"Going to cum again?" Another smack. "What a poor servant you make."

"Forgive me," she whined, grinding her ass against him needily, "master."

The corners of his lips quirked at the address. "Showing your true nature at last, are you? Tell me what you want, you dirty little slut."

"I—your dirty slut wants to cum!"

His fingers clamped around her tail, yanking her closer to plunge into her with renewed vigor. "Go on, then," he growled, his restraint shattering. "Cum for me."

It came as a shock when a shudder immediately rippled through her body, and she clamped down on him hard. His cry of fulfillment joined hers, his hips bucking as he spurted inside her scalding wetness.

He sagged over her and panted for air. His legs were still trembling. Never had he experienced such a thorough, all-consuming pleasure before, his satisfaction going far beyond sexual. Having his dreaded enemy submit to him so utterly... there was something primal about it, something that made his blood sing in his veins.

He straightened up and pulled away. Fia sprawled on the floor with a prolonged moan, her tail sagging like a wilted reed. His gaze swept over the expanse of her sweaty skin, lingering on the tattoo on her right buttock.

"Get up." He frowned when she showed no sign of hearing him and attempted to inject authority into his voice. "_Get up_."

Squeaking, she swatted at the tattoo as though squashing a mosquito, then sat up. She glanced around in bewilderment before peering questioningly at him. Now that his experiment succeeded, he wasn't sure what he wanted, so the two of them merely stared at each other for a time.

"_Well_?" She brushed her hair off her forehead with an irritated expression.

He blinked, then rose to his feet with a groan. He had won, yet she was far from the docile plaything he had fantasized turning her into. The desire to exert his dominance returned with a vengeance.

"You forgot to clean me up." He glanced down pointedly.

A spark of fire returned to her eyes, but despite no magic infusing his voice this time, she crawled over to him compliantly. "Right away, master," she purred. "How thoughtless of me."

Kneeling before him, she took hold of his cock. Her long and nimble tongue swished around his crown before lavishing the underside with more attention than was strictly necessary given his order. He grunted inadvertently, and from the glint in her eye, he could tell she knew exactly the effect she had on him.

Peering at him with upturned eyes, she popped his stiffening member into her mouth. He gasped at the heat that enveloped him.

"You love the taste of your cunt juice, don't you?" he asked breathlessly. "Sucking on your soaked knickers for hours must've been a treat."

She growled with him in her mouth, her tongue stilling.

He chuckled at her peeved expression. "Enough." He nudged her until she let go with a soft _pop_. His cock wasn't fully erect yet, but getting there. "Stick that ass in the air. I'm not done yet."

Her brief bout of arrogance ended right there as she sent him a reluctant look. "Wouldn't you rather I pleasure you with my tongue?"

"Later."

Biting her lip, she sank gingerly onto his stained robe. "Harry—_master_, I'm sore. Please let me rest a little."

"I'm going to take what's mine whenever I want to." He knelt to maneuver her roughly into position. Beads of sweat gathered on the small of her back, and their combined fluids dribbled out of her cunt. She moaned as he shoved his cock inside, and he felt himself harden in response to her slick heat. Bending over her, he braced against the floor to whisper into her ear, feeling her shiver. "And you're going to _love_ it."

There was no easing into it this time; she was certainly more than wet enough. He drove into her, quickly building up a furious rhythm. Her words were drowned out by helpless mewls before she fully voiced them.

"Look at you" he grunted. "Getting off from being screwed by a _human._"

She made no reply, but her moans became muffled and her tail whipped more vigorously. He changed his angle, trying to find what she reacted to the most.

"How many times have you fantasized about this? Tossing around all night, dripping at the thought of your captor fucking you?"

"Dream on," she spat.

"You came the moment I penetrated you. Just how much do you love my cock?"

"I—I _don't_!" There was only the sound of flesh slapping together until she gathered enough breath to speak again. "You—you can order me around—but I'll never _enjoy_ this."

"Trying to convince me... or yourself?" If he had to pound it into her, then that's exactly what he was going to do.

Her tail flicked agitatedly. Recalling her earlier reaction, he grasped it at the root, slowly sliding his fingers up its length. Fia cried in complaint, but a slap on her ass turned it into a whimper.

Her tail kept trying to twist out of his palm as he went higher until reaching its heart-shaped tip. He fingered it curiously. Unlike the cord below that rippled with muscle, it was softer, spongy.

On an impulse, he brought it to his mouth and licked up its flat surface. Fia squeaked. Delighted, he gently bit down on the tip and lapped at it with his tongue, freeing his hand to hold onto her again.

"D-don't!" she said, yanking her tail hard enough for it to slip out his mouth.

"I know you love it," he said. "Bet you used that thing to pleasure yourself every night while you could."

"Did—did not."

He growled, more pretense than serious. "I see your attitude still needs adjusting."

His frantic pace was having its toll but damned if he wasn't going to make her cum first, if only to make a point. He eyed her flicking tail, the spade slick with saliva, and seized it again, this time yanking it lower. Spreading her ass cheeks with one hand, he ran its tip along her puckered hole.

Fia went rigid. "W-what are you—"

Pinching the cord below the tip, he pushed. It slid in a fraction, her tight sphincter squeezing at the intrusion.

"That's not—_normal_!" Fia whipped her head about to glare. "Impudent human, stop this right now—"

He pushed harder. The heart-shaped flesh yielded, compressing slightly until the thickest part passed through and her asshole clenched around the narrower cord beyond. Fia sputtered, her tail twisting side to side.

"How—how _dare_ you?"

Snorting, he gripped her hips and resumed his steady strokes. She whimpered, frantically tugging her tail, but with the tip swallowed by her ass, she couldn't muster enough strength to pull it out. When her sphincter widened slightly to release a fraction of the tip, Harry shoved it in deeper, delighting in the shiver this elicited.

He pounded into her with abandon, and whatever protests she still had devolved into incoherent moans. She was tightening again, her asshole quivering around the tail that now seemed to be gliding in and out of its own accord.

He slammed into her, letting loose the rage that had pent up during those long seven years, even as he felt his loins tighten up. Fiamette mewled, slumping face-first, her cheek rubbing the cold stone floor with his every motion. It barely registered through the haze clouding his mind, but she was encouraging him, moaning her approval.

"_Fuck, Harry!_" she cried as he bottomed out inside her. Her nails scraped the floor, hands balling into fists, and her tail went taut, her ass clenching repeatedly around its tip as a climax shook her body.

His own pleasure crested, and he pressed against her ass to bury himself even deeper. She contracted around his pulsing cock, heightening his pleasure to the point where he lost control, babbling Merlin-knew-what as he spilled his seed in her depths.

"Mine," he grunted, "_you're mine_."

He withdrew and sat back heavily, feeling like he had run a marathon. She sagged to the floor. The sight of her splayed across his robes, drooling and quivering, was immensely gratifying.

Upon catching his breath, he began gathering his scattered clothing. He almost fell like crashing right here, but the stone floor was cold, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and sex.

He paused over her prone form. "Get up."

The only response was a weak groan. "Can't."

His lips quirked upward, and he nudged her with his toe. "Come on, it's about time I let you outside. We both could use a shower."

She stretched like an enormous, lazy cat, the tail she had freed at some point whisking once before dangling limply. "Carry me."

His eyebrows rose. "That's not a job for the master, is it?"

"You're the one who did this to me." She turned her head a fraction, and a single purple eye stared at him balefully from under the fringe of her hair. "Can't. Move."

He looked her over speculatively. Perhaps she was even sincere, considering the prolonged incarceration and the suppression of her powers... and she wasn't hurling invectives at him anymore.

Checking if the brand on her delectable buttocks was still there, he crouched and reached for her collar. "Would this help? Reckon you don't need it anymore." He unclasped the lock and slid the enchanted silver off her slender neck.

She sucked in a breath, her muscles rippling under her smooth skin, and the air around her shimmered with heat. He drew back in alarm. Strands of her hair curled and twisted in the waves of power radiating off her body. Pushing off the floor, she bolted to her feet and tossed her head back.

"At last!"

Ebony wings sprouted from her shoulder blades, growing to full size in seconds. She flapped them, sending out a gust that had Harry shielding his eyes. Her hands sketched a complex gesture, her lips moving in an incantation, and bright red flames licked up her palms. She spread her arms wide and allowed them to wash over her, leaving her hair lustrous and sleek, and her skin clean.

Harry watched, transfixed, until her eyes zeroed in on him and narrowed predatorily. He gulped and cast his gaze about in search of his wand as his fingers tightened on the bundle of clothes in his hands.

"You sure have done as you pleased with me. _No one_, let alone a human, has ever subjected me to an act so..." She scowled, her hand rubbing her bare arse absently. "How did this happen? The pact should've never taken."

Despite his racing pulse, he flashed her a cocky grin. It was safe now, it _had_ to be. "Perhaps deep down in your heart, you wanted to submit to me?"

Her tail flicked, and she bared her fangs. "I won't let this affront stand."

They moved simultaneously, her wings taking her to the air while Harry tossed the clothes into her path and dived toward his wand. She crashed into him mid-leap, her slender legs clamping around his waist as her hands did around his shoulders; he teetered before collapsing to the floor.

Yelping, he sought the leverage to push her off, but her face loomed close, and their noses collided before her warm lips mashed fiercely against his. Before he knew it, her tongue was in his mouth, hot and demanding. He loosened up before stiffening and struggling to push her off again.

She drew back and pouted, contemplating him. "Subjugating me is one thing, but I won't have a human thinking he has better stamina. A demoness has her pride."

"_Bwuh_?" he said.

"Rejoice. I'll drain you dry tonight, and it won't even cost you your soul." Her hand snaked down to cup his balls, her ample breasts squishing against his chest and her fangs nipping his earlobe. "Get your tool hard again, and I'll ride you to the heights of ecstasy as I promised."

"You're, uh... forgetting your position." His brain felt fuzzy. He was still in control, right?

Her hand stroked him with an almost painful insistence. "You can't possibly claim to be my master if that's all you've got. By our standards, that was mere foreplay."

Any thought of ordering her to stop fled his mind. He squeezed her ass roughly, interrupting her stroking. "Don't you worry, I was only getting started."


	7. Tomb Raiding, Part One

Harry nursed a pint of ale at the bar while observing the spectacle unfolding in the middle of the bustling pub. For once, he wasn't the center of attention; bringing Fiamette along had unexpected benefits.

She sat at a table opposite a burly, ruddy-faced man, a half-empty bottle and a pile of silver coins between them. A pointy hat concealed her horns, and her tail was tucked inside her baggy robes. A gaggle of onlookers surrounded the table, watching the two with bated breath.

The man clumsily refilled their glasses, splashing some amber liquor on the table. His hairy hand seized his glass, and he knocked it back, groaned loudly, then slammed it empty on the table.

"Not bad for a mortal." Fia mimicked the action, draining her glass and licking her lips as her cheeks flushed with warmth.

"Merlin's beard," someone exclaimed. "That's her tenth shot and the lass hasn't batted an eye!"

The man glared at her blearily. His thick fingers groped for the bottle but were unable to get a proper grip. He frowned and opened his mouth, a bit of steam escaping in a burp, then slumped face-first onto the table.

The crowd exploded in cheers as Fia cackled and pulled the pile of coins over to her side. "Anyone else here foolish enough to challenge me?"

The pubgoers glanced around, murmuring, egging each other on. It didn't take long for another volunteer to appear.

"You're on, love," a grizzled wizard said, producing a jingling pouch from his robes. "You can't possibly outdrink me after polishing off half a bottle of Ogden's."

She bared her fangs at him. "Bring it on, old-timer."

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry turned his back on them and rested his pint atop the counter. A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he pivoted to watch a red-haired man in a leather jacket elbow his way through the throng and flag the barman. As the man slumped down several stools away and stooped over his drink, a dragon fang dangled from his ear.

"Bill?" Harry called. "Bill Weasley?"

The man turned with a start. Eyes widening, he snatched his glass and made his way over. "Blimey, Harry," he said, proffering his hand. "Didn't expect to see you out and about. Last I heard, you left the Ministry and became some kind of a recluse."

Harry shook his hand. "I had things to take care of." He shrugged at Bill's questioning look. "Did a little soul-searching, you could say."

Bill didn't press further, perching down next to him. "Glad you're doing better. Mum was worried about you—the whole family was."

Harry ducked his head and took a long pull of his ale. He might've had a damned good reason, but he _did_ sorely neglect the few relationships he had. Perhaps he ought to drop by the Burrow. "Anyway... what's new with you?" he asked, eager to change the topic.

Bill sighed and looked down, rolling his glass of liquor between his fingers.

"Fleur finally come to her senses and kick you out?"

Bill snorted, then downed his drink in one go. "After she hears what I did, she just might."

"That bad, huh?" Harry was beginning to think his cheeky tone wasn't appropriate. "If you want to talk, I'm all ears."

Bill gave him a speculative look. "How much do you know about Gringotts Curse-Breaking business?"

"Er..."

Bill nodded sagely. "Goblins prefer it that way, the shrewd buggers. It's like this: Gringotts bids for rights to excavate promising digs in a public auction. If they win—which they usually do—they send in one of their Curse-Breaking teams. That's us. We don't return until we loot everything or die trying, and we risk our necks gladly." He absently rubbed a small scar on his thumb. "Whatever treasures we find are divvied up between the bank and the country's government, but every Curse-Breaker gets their cut in gold. Dig up a good cache, and you're set for years. But if you don't..."

Harry frowned. "You still get paid, though, right?"

"The wage'll keep you fed until the next dig, nothing more. Now, don't get me wrong, I knew what I was signing up for. It's just..." He gestured to the bartender for a refill. "The latest dig was brutal. Three months out in sweltering Egyptian desert, two teammates lost, fending off raiders every week. And for what?"

Bill slammed his palm on the counter, glaring into the distance. When he next spoke, Harry had to strain his ears to hear him over the hubbub.

"The place was barren. Sacked centuries ago, by the looks of it. And then that prick Urgnok had the gall to act like it was _our_ fault for coming back empty-handed." He shook his head. "I gave him a piece of my mind. Didn't mince words either."

"I'm sure he'll understand."

Bill sent him a look that suggested he was questioning his sanity. "He's a bloody _goblin_. They're big on hierarchy and respect and all that shite. Best I can hope for is a few years of disenchanting teakettles for doddering grannies."

Before Harry could reply, a willowy arm draped across his shoulders, and Fiamette plopped into the seat on his right. "I almost feel bad, how easy fleecing—_hic_—these idiots is. Almost." She leaned back to peer at Bill, causing her pointy hat to sway precariously. "Who's this gloomy sod?"

He gave her a warning glance but wasn't sure if it was acknowledged. "Fia, meet William Weasley. Bill, meet Fia. She's not fond of her full name."

"Just Bill," the man said, looking her over curiously. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Fia said with a wink. "I like your hair—it reminds me of home."

Bill eyed the crimson locks flying out from underneath her hat. "Ireland?"

Fia dissolved into laughter. "Something like that." She turned to wave at the bartender. "Oi, can a girl get something to drink in this place?"

Harry cleared his throat; the conversation was straying into dangerous territory. "Er, Bill, you were saying?"

Bill's fingers drummed against the counter, a golden band on display. "I fucked up, what else is there to say? Were I still single, I'd never have blown up on my boss. I'd have moped for a few days, then gritted my teeth and trudged on. But now I have my future to think about—_our_ future. Fleur and I, we... we were talking about starting a family."

Harry blinked. "But you're already married."

Bill gave him that look again. "I meant having children, mate."

"I see." It was a foreign concept to him, having rarely thought about life beyond the deadline. He sipped his ale, his gaze straying to his right without conscious thought.

"Do you want me to bear your offspring?" Fia whispered, leaning in and filling his nostrils with alcohol fumes. "Cambions are rarely conceived, but if you keep breeding me as tenaciously as you have, sooner or later..."

He swallowed hard, nearly choking on his drink. "I'm putting you on the potion."

Her fangs grazed his ear. "Think about it: demonic ancestry and Peverell bloodline, united. Our progeny's potential would be... substantial. We could beget a clan that will eventually come to dominate the planes."

A rough hand clasped his shoulder and yanked him off the stool. His drink sloshed as he dropped it on the counter, staggering a few steps back. "Hey—"

"Get away from her," Bill barked, fumbling for his wand. Finding it in his pocket, he trained it shakily on Fia, who showed no sign of rising off her stool.

Harry stepped in between them and raised his hands. "Calm down—"

"Harry, she's a—" Bill halted mid-attempt to shove him aside. "So you know. _Listen_, whatever power she holds over you, it can be broken. I only know bits and pieces myself, but there are ancient scrolls in the library of—"

"Bill. Bill, _please_." Laying his palm atop the man's wand hand, he pushed it down. "She's perfectly harmless. Have a seat and let's talk about this."

Bill's brown eyes bored into him, then flicked over his shoulder to regard Fia, who grinned at him impishly.

"Rawr!" she said, clawing at the air.

Rolling his eyes, Harry flicked her forehead. "Behave."

The fact that he didn't get mauled in return seemed to convince Bill, who perched on the edge of his stool, his wand clutched between his fingers. Sighing, Harry sat down to put a barrier between the two. In hindsight, he shouldn't have been surprised that an experienced Curse-Breaker would recognize a demoness for what she was. Bill had no doubt picked up things during his jaunts through ancient repositories of knowledge and treasure.

"Don't suppose I could convince you she drank a botched Polyjuice Potion?" he asked dryly. Bill merely glared in response. "Hey, all of two people who asked about her eyes bought it."

"People are idiots. That's why her kind had walked among us for centuries, doing as they pleased before we wised up." Bill shook his head. "From your attitude, I gather I don't have a full grasp of the situation. Talk."

"The situation's probably much like you're imagining, only our roles are reversed. _I'm_ the one holding her leash." He couldn't help the smugness in his voice.

Bill looked at him and Fia in turn. "Merlin's beard. How did _that_ happen?"

Harry buffed his nails against his robes. "There's a bit of a story to that, and this isn't the best place."

Fia giggled, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. "We would get kicked out for public indecency."

"Bloody hell." Bill rubbed his forehead. "Don't fall for her wiles. Whatever control you have over her, she'll betray you the first chance she gets."

"I'm aware," he said, trying not to shiver as Fia nibbled playfully on his earlobe.

"You're playing with fire!"

"Bill. I _know_."

Bill drew back a little, then exhaled loudly. "It's your life, I suppose. Being a Curse-Breaker, I can't exactly lecture you about danger."

Harry watched him pocket his wand. "Are we good, then?"

"As long as she doesn't try to claw my heart out or something." He winced at Fia's giggle, then seized his glass and downed it in one gulp. "Shit, and I thought _my_ life was complicated."

"About that..." Harry rubbed his chin. "There's all these ancient sites around the world, potentially brimming with riches, and anyone can bid to have a go at them?"

Bill nodded slowly. "That's the gist of it, yeah."

"Ever think of going independent?"

"Ha! It takes a thousand Galleons just to secure a promising dig, and half that much to hire a competent team. Not even the wealthiest purebloods would risk it. And going in without a license..." He shivered. "Britain gets a bad rep, but they'll at least give you a trial. Back in Egypt, they kill raiders on sight. Legally."

"What are you jabbering about?" Fia asked with a pout. Holding on to Harry's shoulders, she pulled herself into his lap.

"_Oof_. Well." With her arse wiggling against him, collecting his thoughts was suddenly quite difficult. He hugged her around the waist to keep her still, inhaling the spicy scent of her hair. "It occurs to me that I'm out of a job and bored, so I thought we could go on a trip. What do you reckon?"

"Things _have _been a little too quiet lately," Fia mused.

Bill goggled at him. "You've got to be bloody kidding me."

* * *

Bill stood before a blackboard, wand in hand, as a piece of chalk sketched a map of Eastern Europe. The rest of the team watched, seated in their chairs, and in the case of Harry, the bed. (Fia was, of course, on his lap, never missing the chance to torment him in what little ways she could.) The room they had rented at the Three Broomsticks was too cramped for six, but it would do for the initial meeting.

"The dig's in modern Belarus." Bill tapped the location with his wand, and the chalk danced across to mark it. "Best we can tell, it's an unusually large burial mound dating to twelfth-century Grand Duchy of Lithuania. Just a couple hundred years before Christians came cutting down sacred groves and burning idols."

"Fairly fresh," a woman remarked. Her short grizzled hair and square jaw lent her a no-nonsense look to rival McGonagall's.

"Which means whatever curses the pagans put there are unlikely to have petered out," Bill said with a nod. "During the Late Middle Ages, a Muggle duke ordered a castle built atop. There's a record of building crews arriving at a nearby village, but not a single stone was laid on top of the hill. Then, about three years ago, a wizarding couple on a camping trip saw strange lights. They did the sensible thing and reported it to the authorities. _They_ didn't do the sensible thing and sent in a pair of Hitwizards to poke around. Neither came back, and the place has been sealed off since."

A burly man with a bald head and a scar across his bulbous nose snorted derisively.

"And that's our target." At Bill's gesture, the chalk began tracing a large round hill beside the map. "We'll come back to the details later, but now, let's talk assets. We have professor Samuel Coombs, an eminent expert on Baltic mythology and a veteran Curse-Breaker in his own right."

A middle-aged man in a brown jacket, oversized glasses, and tawny hair that rivaled Harry's in messiness rose from his seat. "_Retired_ Curse-Breaker. I mostly worked up in Northern Europe, and my joints didn't appreciate the cold and the mud. Except, since Mr. Weasley talked me into this, I'm active again, aren't I? The pagan mythos is something of my specialty, you see—but I suppose William said that already." He craned his neck, blinking owlishly, then sank onto the chair. "Oh, excuse my prattling. Samuel Coombs, looking forward to working with you."

"Thank you, Samuel." Bill gestured toward the short-haired woman. "Everyone in our circles knows the name Hilda Werner."

She nodded and gave a small wave around. "Hullo, folks. I've delved into tombs everywhere from South American jungles to the Ural Mountains, and fortune permitting, will do so while I can lift my wand. This dig is a rich one, I sense it in my bones."

"Next up is Piotr Mickievič. He helped us smooth things out with the Belarusians, so all we need now is to sign the papers and we got our license to go in. I can vouch for his skill."

The scarred man grunted in the way of greeting. "I know Weasley and Werner, and the professor man look smart."

"Thank you, my good fellow," Samuel murmured distractedly.

"But I have question." Piotr jabbed a thick thumb at Harry and Fia. "Who these kids?"

Fia burst out laughing, and Harry shushed her, frantically steadying the pointy hat atop her head.

"Yes, I was getting to that," Bill said. "This is Harry Potter, and he's bankrolling the operation."

Harry grinned cheekily at the calculating looks sent his way. They were a motley crew, but he trusted Bill to know what he was doing.

Bill took a bracing breath. "And he's coming with us."

"Not a wise course of action, in my humble opinion," Samuel said. "An untouched dig is no place for someone barely two years out of Hogwarts."

"Professor right," Piotr said, folding his arms.

"I can take care of myself!" Harry grimaced when his words came out a little more indignant than he'd intended. Fia shook in silent laughter, and he pinched her in retaliation.

"Fine, Potter, then tell me this," Hilda said. "You just triggered an Egyptian sand trap, and the only way out of the room is through a stone door marked with an active Firebrand. What do you do?"

"Er..." He looked around, finding everyone peering at him expectantly. "Touch nothing and listen to your orders?"

Hilda's smile wrinkled her face, somehow making her appear younger. "_Sehr gut_. If you understand this much, you might return alive. Just don't get in the way of our work."

"And girl?" Piotr grunted.

Harry's arms tightened around Fia's waist, and it wasn't for _her_ protection. "She's with me."

Samuel hummed. "While this isn't entirely appropriate, it's not my place to criticize how a young man decides to entertain himself. As long as she stays in the base camp we shouldn't encounter any issues."

Piotr nodded. "If she cook and clean, all good."

Fia lunged forward, making Harry very glad about his precaution. "I'll cook your liver and feed it to your mother, you impudent _mmph_!"

"Trust me, you don't want to eat her cooking," Harry said, his palm clamped over Fia's lips. "Not unless you want your mouth and your, uh, other end to burn for days."

Fia licked his palm, then grazed it with her fangs, forcing him to let go. "Not my fault your kind can't stomach a little spice."

"She means Englishmen," Harry clarified.

"What's your name, dear?" Hilda asked kindly.

"Do you take me for a fool? If you must address me, call me mistress or queen."

Harry groaned. "It's Fia. Don't mind her, she has a peculiar sense of humor."

"There's one thing you have to know about her," Bill said, tension entering his tone. "Tell them, Harry."

He sighed. "Do we have to? I don't think anyone caught on—"

"We've talked about this." Bill stared at him, pointedly ignoring Fia blowing a raspberry in his direction. "The job's risky enough without unknown factors compounding it further."

"Fine." He cast a look around. "Guys, if you decide to leave afterward, I won't blame you. Just keep in mind that the non-disclosure agreement you signed applies to everything you hear and see in this room. Go get 'em." He gave Fia's bottom a playful slap.

She sprang to her feet and pranced into the middle of the crowded room. Making sure she had everyone's attention, she raised her hand to the wide brim of her hat. "Behold, mortals, and despair!" Striking a dramatic pose, she ripped it off.

"_Bozhe moy_," Piotr cried, his chair clattering to the floor as he jumped—but he was the only one. Hilda appeared nonplussed, while Samuel actually leaned forward to inspect her horns and pointed ears.

"Very cute, young lady," he said, adjusting his glasses.

Harry nodded at having found a kindred soul.

"_C-cute_?" Fia sputtered. She wriggled until her tail emerged from under the hem of her robes. "Do these demonic traits not strike an instinctive fear into your heart?"

"Prehensile, too?" Samuel asked, looking her tail over with academic interest. "Impressive, but you've got nothing on my cousin. I witnessed him transfigure himself into a chimera and back—and that was by wielding his wand in the jaws of his snake tail. And one time, I stumbled upon him swaggering through the house naked with four octopus tentacles on his back... His wife is Japanese, you see."

Harry didn't see, and judging from the perplexed silence, neither did anyone else.

Samuel slid his glasses up his nose and sighed. "Ah, the last one, it was a joke. My therapist said I should try those to build rapport with people. I'll have to let her know it was a failure. I do apologize if—"

"It's okay, Samuel," Bill said, holding up a hand. "But really, you're mistaken. That... that _woman_ is a genuine demon from another plane."

Piotr took a few steps back, holding up his wand.

"She's also under Harry's control," Bill hastened to add. "I thoroughly examined the seal that binds her, and we have nothing to fear while he's alive."

Fia glanced at him over her shoulder and wiggled her bum. "And you enjoyed it a great deal."

Bill had the decency to blush.

"Well, I'm not sure I believe that at all," Samuel said, running a hand through his hair. "Demons are legends from darker times—quite fascinating, but nevertheless having no basis in reality."

Fia strode over to him and grasped his collar with one hand before hoisting him up. "Is _this_ real enough for you?" Rather than threatening, her tone was almost pleading.

Hilda swore and joined Piotr in aiming her wand at Fia; after some hesitation, Bill did the same.

"Oh my, what strength," Samuel said. Despite his legs dangling in the air, his tone was as even as ever. "Re'em blood, a strengthening ritual, or perhaps a deft lightening charm upon my person?" His wand materialized in his hand, and Harry blinked, unsure from where he had drawn it. "_Finite_. Ah, not the third option, then. If it is the first, I do hope you've taken proper precautions. You can crack your bones or rip your muscles if you aren't careful while on Re'em blood. Quite a volatile substance."

Samuel's placid face turned a shade of puce that reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, and he opened his mouth to order Fia to set him down, but she did so without being prompted. Taking a few steps back, she shook her head, the hem of her robes ruffling with the agitated motions of her tail.

"This—this isn't pretense. How is it possible that you feel no fear toward me, mortal?"

Samuel adjusted his collar. "I beg your pardon for not playing along, young lady, but this didn't seem like the time for tomfoolery. We're all professionals here, after all." He turned toward the flabbergasted Bill. "Could we please get back on the topic, William?"

Fiammete clutched her head. "_Aaargh_! What in the blazes is wrong with you?" Pivoting, she practically crashed through the door in her hurry to bolt out of the room. Her pointy hat plopped down on the floor, forgotten.

Samuel looked around and gave a double-take at the extended wands. "Was I _supposed_ to play along? I'm sorry, I was never very good at reading the mood."

Harry groaned and buried his face in his palms. This was going to take some explaining.


	8. Tomb Raiding, Part Two

"This is _boring_," Fia whinged, fidgeting behind him. "Why not blast our way into this pile of dirt and be done with it?"

Harry swerved his broomstick to circle the burial mound below. Covered in lush grass, its almost perfect roundness was the only hint as to its artificial nature.

"Because we don't want our treasures buried under tons of soil," he said with practiced patience. "You're the one who insisted on coming along even though I told you to stay at the camp."

There was a rustle of fabric behind him. "And _you _insisted on sticking me atop this contraption when I wanted to fly under my own power! It's been ages since I got to stretch my wings."

"There could be lookouts from the local Ministry lurking about. We can't have you attracting undue attention."

Fia laughed mirthlessly, her hands tightening around his waist. "Do you know how many people ran away in terror since I stopped hiding my ancestry?"

Harry sighed, having a fair idea of what was coming.

"None! Not a single person, and I was practically _flaunting_ my awesome horns! Some idiot in red robes and a badge asked politely if I needed help 'reversing the spell damage', and when I told him that was my true look, he laughed and told me to have fun!" She inhaled deeply. "And some strumpet with a dozen piercings had the gall to compliment me on my 'sick body mods'! What is the world coming to?"

Harry hummed noncommittally. Hovering over the opposite side of the hill, Bill waved him over. He nudged his broom in that direction.

"Perhaps I should go on an old-fashioned rampage," Fia mused. "While I favor subtler methods, at this point I'll settle for striking fear back into the hearts of your kind."

"No rampages." Harry saw others converge on Bill, Piotr's burly frame looking almost comical on his stubby broom.

Fia's breasts pressed against his back. "Aww, not even a minor one? I saw a tiny pathetic village on the way here—no one would miss it."

"No rampages," he repeated more firmly.

Fia huffed and fell silent until they flew up to the quartet of Curse-Breakers astride their own brooms. Wiggling back and forth, she moaned loudly. "This broomstick doesn't do much for me, Harry. I rather prefer your _other_ one."

He glared over his shoulder. "Be quiet or you're going to get it later."

She leaned to whisper into his ear. "That's what I'm counting on."

Bill cleared his throat, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You lovebirds see anything unusual?"

"Just grass," Harry murmured, trying to fight the heat rushing to his cheeks. "What about your spells?"

Piotr only grumbled something under his breath, but Hilda turned to answer.

"Enchantments blanket the hill and its surroundings, making it impossible to scan deeper. They're the same all over... Maybe there isn't an entrance at all."

Samuel shook his head. "This isn't your typical Muggle barrow. There had to be a way for the worshipers to approach and offer sacrifice, and for the pagan priests to pay respects to their ancestors."

Hilda shrugged. "Looks like nothing more than a big old grave to me."

Piotr scowled at the hill below. "Maybe only believer see entrance. Flying is coward, we need show we... humble."

"Or brave," Samuel mused. "The pagans weren't quite as fond of humility as Christians. Yes, the idea has merit, I believe. We should approach from the east—they revered the sun, and would have wanted it to shine upon their forebears."

"Let's give it a try," Bill said, turning his back to the afternoon sun and descending at a shallow angle.

Everyone followed his example and soon alighted on a grassy meadow several hundred yards before the hill. Harry dismounted and handed his Firebolt to Bill, who stowed it in an enchanted rucksack, while Fia stretched mightily, her robes clinging to her shapely figure.

"I don't like the aura in the hill's vicinity," Bill said. "We walk in a single file, safety rope on, eyes peeled."

"Always a good sign when we need the rope before we even get into the tomb," Hilda murmured.

"Truly?" Samuel asked. "I would've thought the opposite, as such a hostile environment implies aggressive—"

"That was sarcasm, Sammy." She patted him on the shoulder.

Meanwhile, Bill sank his arm up to the shoulder in his rucksack to retrieve a length of Self-Adjusting Rope and tied it to his belt.

Harry considered the group. "You go first," he told Fia.

She scowled at him. "Are you using me as a sacrificial lamb?"

"Not at all. We're all fragile, weak mortals whereas you're a mighty demoness. I'm sure whatever nastiness the pagans cooked up won't even give you pause." He struggled to keep his expression straight.

"That much is true," Fia said. "Very well—cower behind me like the weaklings you are while I lead the way!" Raising her chin proudly, she completely missed the pitying looks the others sent her.

It took a short argument, but Harry secured the second spot; while he had no desire to put himself in danger, he needed to keep an eye on Fia lest she try some mischief. Linked by the rope, they set off gingerly across the meadow.

The grass swayed in a cool breeze that carried the smell of wildflowers. They had to shield their eyes from the glare at first, but as they neared the hill, it shaded them from the setting sun. Harry watched Fia's swaying hips as she sauntered in front of him without a care in the world, then shook his head and gripped his wand tighter. Bill had told them to stay vigilant, yet he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be on guard against.

"We're entering the bespelled area," Bill said behind him. "Tell me if anything feels unusual. Hair standing on the back of your neck, weird smells, a sense of foreboding..."

"Er, okay." He sniffed, catching a whiff of something earthy. Was that unusual enough to report?

"Suffering and death leave marks," Fia said over her shoulder. "If there are deadly traps ahead, there's no way I'll miss—_glurble_."

"Fia!" Harry goggled at the rope going straight _into_ the ground, the turf wobbling as though it was floating on a liquid. Coming to his senses, he seized the rope and pulled.

Bill ran up and tapped it with his wand. "Retractum."

The rope tore backward, the momentum laying Harry out on his ass. The soil ahead parted, releasing Fia with a wet squelch. Mud coated her head to toe, and bits of vegetation stuck in the curtain of muck that was her hair.

"_Disgusting cold slimy_..." She hugged herself, shivering. A few steps ahead, the floating patches of turf fused together, hiding the turbid water underneath, and soon there was no sign of the hole at all.

"There, there," Hilda crooned, pushing down the wand Harry had trained on Fia. "A basic Scouring Charm will do no favors for that beautiful hair. Allow me." She set about cleaning Fia's soggy robes and funneling the mud out of her locks, returning them to their former crimson color.

Fia sniffled, looking at her with something akin to gratitude. "You're not too bad for a human. When I take over your country, I'll make you my favored attendant."

"That's nice," Hilda said. "Turn around, dear."

While the miserable Fia was cleaned, Samuel walked at a right angle from the spot she had vanished in, tapping the soil with the tip of his boot. Piotr lagged behind him, his meaty fists clenched over the rope connecting the two of them.

"As I thought." Samuel adjusted his glasses. "It's not a single sinkhole, but a magically concealed quagmire that appears to surround the hill in its entirety."

Bill raised his head from where he was poking the ground with his wand. "Freeze it over?"

Piotr crossed his arms. "Same problem. We cheat, we not see entrance."

"If there is one," Hilda murmured, untangling a twig out of Fia's mane.

"When it comes to the locals, where there is a swamp, there is a way," Samuel said. "This harkens back to the times when they would lure the invading Teutons into marshlands, using their heavy armor against them. We're looking for a _kūlgrinda_. A hidden road."

Hilda straightened up. "As long as you're certain it exists, Sammy, I'll find it. Up you go, dear." She proffered a hand to Fia.

Harry's eyebrows rose when Fiamette accepted the help without comment. Hilda tapped her wand against the knot around her belt to undo it. They rearranged themselves, and this time he found himself in the middle of the file, still trailing Fia, who was uncharacteristically taciturn.

Hilda took the lead, but for minutes she didn't move at all, her head ducked and her eyes squeezed shut as though listening to a sound only she could hear. Finally, she squared her shoulders and waved her wand in an arc before her.

"_Zeig mir den Weg_," she sang, her eyelids still closed. "_Zeig mir den Weg..." _

She swayed in place, then took off along the edge of the camouflaged swamp. The others hastened to follow her assured steps. Hilda's song-like incantation continued in an unceasing stream while she took hold of her wand with both hands as if it were a divining rod.

"_Zeig mir den Weg_..." Hilda stepped directly toward the hill, and Harry gasped when her feet sank several inches through the soil.

"It's alright, young man, quite alright," Samuel said. "These paths are always below the surface. That's what makes them hidden, you see."

"Ah," Harry murmured, ignoring a derisive snort behind him.

Hilda showed no sign of hearing the exchange. Tension became evident in her gait as she made several steps into the swamp, then veered abruptly left. Bill was at her heels, mimicking the turn she had made.

"Shorten the rope," he ordered, tapping at the portion between himself and their guide.

Everyone inched closer to one another until their boots were practically touching. The grass parted in their path, murky water swirling around their ankles and above the stepping stones underneath. Harry took hold of Fia's shoulders to better follow the sharp turns. He expected her to mock him, but she merely started a little and extended her tail from under her robes to wrap it around his thigh.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

"This place is leeching my power," she hissed. Her robes bulged along her shoulder blades.

He glanced down at the roiling water thoughtfully. "Keep moving, I'm sure it won't be much longer."

Hilda's voice rang again, and he nudged Fia gently. She took a shuddering breath, the wings underneath her robes receding, and inched ahead. To Harry, the walk wasn't taxing physically so much as mentally: they had to tiptoe at a snail's pace, squished against each other, all the while taking care not to slip off the slimy stones. A good fifteen minutes passed, and Hilda's voice was becoming hoarse, but they were still only midway to their goal.

Fia squeaked, one foot slipping off the path and sinking into the marsh up to the knee; the file stopped in their tracks. Harry pulled her up, grunting with effort.

"She's okay," he called out, steadying her by her shaking shoulders. "Keep goi—"

There was a mighty splash of water, and the turf to their right parted to reveal a mound of mud and gray plants. It floated ponderously closer until a smaller mound emerged ahead of the main body, opening two greenish eyes to peer at the group.

Harry jerked aside, and only a burly arm from behind saved him from plunging sideways into the marsh. He shakily trained his wand at the creature as others did the same. Well, most of the others.

"Oh, how utterly _fascinating_," Samuel said, crouching. "It's been years since I got a good look at one of these."

"Get back," Bill said tensely, the tip of his wand beginning to glow. The _thing_ crept steadily closer, rivulets of muddy water trickling off its sides.

Samuel started, looked around, then chuckled dryly. "Please, William, there's no need to be on your guard. This is but a _maumas_, a timid and docile swamp beast. I highly doubt it was intended as a part of the defenses; it must've wandered in centuries after the place was abandoned."

With half of its body now protruding above the surface, the _maumas_ was reminiscent of a lumbering sea lion covered in tangled weeds—and stank accordingly. It directed its bulging gray nose at Samuel's extended palm and snorted loudly, spraying dirty water. A gaping maw opened among the muck, and the creature bellowed, blowing the stench of rotting plants at the group. Piotr swore, brandishing his wand, but the beast drew back and sank underwater.

"See? Gentle, beautiful creatures." Samuel straightened up and produced a handkerchief to wipe his oversized glasses with. "The fellow must've been curious at the first people to cross here in a long, long time. Shall we be on our way?"

"Beautiful?" Fia snarled. "Hellhounds are downright kissable compared to _that_! We're plodding through this accursed muck, defenseless, while it creeps around waiting for a chance to drag us under! I can't take this anymore..." Trembling, she lifted her hands above her head. "_Xyr-Xyrrhes... yshurruth..._"

Piotr prodded Harry's back. "Control your woman, Potter."

"Incinerate this stinking muddy bog... while I still can..." Black flames gathered between Fia's outstretched fingers.

Harry poked the half-formed fireball with a finger, causing it to fizzle out. Grasping Fia's wrists, he pressed her arms down, then squeezed her trembling body in a hug.

"Get a hold of yourself," he hissed. "Your behavior is unbecoming of an immortal demon."

She squirmed in his arms, turning to glare at him with teary eyes. "It's precisely _because_ I'm a demon, fool! This place is steeped in the faith of humans and their earth magic. It's the antithesis of my nature."

He blinked. "You should've told me."

She averted her gaze.

"You and your stupid pride." Bending his knees, he scooped her up into his arms. Her violet eyes were wide as she peered up at him.

"Better?" he asked quietly.

She released a shuddering sigh, then ducked her head, clutching the front of his robes. Smiling, he looked up to find everyone staring at them.

"I hope there won't be more temper tantrums," Hilda said tiredly. "Getting into the right state for divination isn't easy, you know."

"Right," Harry said sheepishly. He expected Fia to retort, but she instead snuggled into his chest as though trying to hide from Hilda's gaze.

"Yes, move," Piotr said. "I need take piss but not want swamp thing to come bite off my—"

"We get the idea," Bill said quickly. "Please, Hilda needs to concentrate."

Everyone fell quiet. Harry shifted his feet, hugging Fia closer, and gauged the distance to the hill. He didn't look forward to slogging through the marsh while carrying her, but despite accusing her of stupid pride, he was stubborn in his own way. He just hoped his arms wouldn't give out.

"_Zeig mir den Weg_," Hilda sang.

A dozen seconds passed before she stepped forward, then Bill, then Harry, then the two men behind him. A bead of sweat trickled down his nose, and he got a sudden urge to scratch it. Bloody typical.

He tried counting steps at first but lost count in the hundreds. The sky overhead began to darken, and Hilda's monotonous chants lulled him. _Slosh, stop. Slosh, stop._ He swayed on his feet as they changed direction again, murmuring his thanks when Piotr steadied him. _Slosh, stop._

He crashed into Bill and staggered back, rough hands catching him from behind. Blinking, he looked around and found himself at the base of the hill. His boots were still several inches underwater.

"Careful, it's a bit steep," Bill called over his shoulder. He assisted a wobbling Hilda out of the water, then stepped out himself.

Hardly daring to believe it, Harry inched forward and raised a foot to test the soil ahead. It held his weight. With a grunt, he lurched forward, then teetered on the edge until Bill yanked him onto solid ground. Moving to make space for Piotr and Samuel, he lowered Fia's feet onto the grass.

"Thanks," she whispered, so quiet he almost thought he had imagined it. Her skin was ashen in the evening gloom.

"Not a problem," he said, his arms shaking badly. "Are you okay now?"

She grimaced and took a shaky step away from the marsh. "It's bearable. There's something about that water... It felt very displeased at my presence."

He furrowed his brows as he freed them both from the safety rope. "Like a guardian of some sort?"

"Nothing sentient, no. More like the general atmosphere of the place." She raised her head to consider the others. "Oi, mortals, what's the hold-up?"

Piotr paused in vanishing the muck off his trousers. "This place make you cry but now you want go deeper?"

She bared her fangs. "That's _exactly_ why. I want us to hurry and desecrate it so these revolting magics would fade."

"See here, that's a misconception," Bill said. "We're not _desecrating_ anything—we're excavating with the permission of the country's government."

Fia shrugged. "Whatever makes you feel better about yourself."

Bill frowned, appearing ready to argue.

"I say, look at this," Samuel said. He stood before the not-quite-vertical slope, the soil before him shifting and parting to reveal something dark underneath.

Bill swore and ran up to him. "Samuel, I know you can take care of yourself, but"—he blinked at the rectangular slab of rock—"is that the entrance?"

"I daresay it is. Our colleague's hunch was right—it reveals itself only to those who walk the path of the believers."

Piotr grunted, raising his wand to cast light upon the rock barring the doorway. "And how it open?"

Samuel leaned closer to scrutinize the carvings on its surface. They were dominated by a stylized depiction of the sun, with smaller squiggles underneath.

"A sacrifice to honor the ancestors?" he murmured.

Fia perked up, splaying out her claws. "Are you volunteering?"

Samuel blinked at her, then chuckled. "Oh no, young lady, not _that_ kind of sacrifice. Let's see... Honey, perhaps, and since the harvest season is still a ways off, some bread. Rye, if you have it."

Bill shrugged off his rucksack and rummaged inside, at some point worming into it up to the waist. He surfaced with a small jar of honey and half a loaf of dark bread. Nodding his approval, Samuel stepped away from the doorway. Bill brought the offerings over as everyone gathered behind him, wands out.

"Here goes," he said, crouching.

Setting the offerings on the sill before the door, Bill backpedaled. They watched with bated breath, the light of their wands casting the carvings on the stone in sharp relief.

There was a loud rumble, and the stone slab slid down with ponderous slowness, releasing a waft of musty air from the shadowy passage beyond.

Bill pumped his arm. "Yeah!"

Piotr slapped Samuel on the back. "Not bad, professor."

"Excellent work," Hilda murmured, swaying on her feet slightly.

Sobering up, Bill contemplated the group. "Question is, do we risk setting up inside, or fly to the camp for the night? Retracing our steps tomorrow would be easier."

"Inside," Fia said, her back almost pressing against the steep slope as she eyed the swamp.

"No one ask you," Piotr said.

"_Molchi, tcherv'_," she retorted, making him snort in surprise.

"We don't know if the door will open for us again," Hilda said.

Samuel was quiet, but he was bending at the waist to peer through the entrance as closely as he could without actually crossing the threshold.

Bill sighed in resignation. "In we go, then. One at a time, detection spells, tread lightly—you know the drill. Harry, you two wait until I call you."

He nodded, but Bill wasn't looking at him anymore, discussing something with his colleagues in rapid Curse-Breaker slang. He, Samuel, and Hilda went in first, fanning out inside, while Piotr followed behind ready to leap to their aid if needed. Harry watched, feeling rather useless, until Fia cuffed the back of his head.

"Stop looking so glum," she said. "A commander is expected to use his mercenaries to clear a path for him."

"They're not my _mercenaries_—well, not really." Multicolored lights flared inside as the Curse-Breakers investigated the place. "Watching them work, I realize how lacking my education is."

"If you want to learn to poke around dusty old crypts, then ask them to teach you." She grinned brazenly. "Don't tell me your soul needs to be on the line for you to achieve proper motivation."

He fixed her with a sardonic glare. "You do realize whose fault it is that I spent most of my Hogwarts years learning to fight to the exclusion of everything else?"

Her grin widened as she grasped his biceps. "And what a fierce warrior you grew into. You ought to be _thanking_ me."

He growled, a mixture of anger and desire stirring inside him, and made to grasp her horn, but Bill's voice called him from the inside. Pivoting, he strode through the entrance, Fia following at his heels. He didn't need to look at her to know she sported a smug smirk.

He found himself in a roundish, low-ceilinged antechamber. The walls were built from drab stone and were honeycombed with recesses filled with scraps of decaying cloth and crumbling pottery. Most of the light came from their wands, shifting and casting shadows as their owners moved. Opposite the entrance, a passage extended into the darkness, wide enough for three to walk side by side.

Bill set his rucksack against the wall and retrieved a wizarding tent. "We'll start exploring tomorrow with clear heads. For now, we'll place proximity alarms and keep watch in turns." He waved his wand, erecting a cheery yellow tent in one go. "Hilda, you can skip tonight."

She put her hands on her hips. "Imply that I'm too frail to do my duties again, Billy, and I'll remind you why they call me _Kastellbrecher_."

He gulped. "Duly noted."

Fia appeared suitably impressed. "Castle Breaker? Why do they call you that?"

Hilda chuckled. "An old story. Come, dear, I'll tell you over dinner." She vanished into the tent, Fia following suit.

Bill held up the flap, warm light spilling out on the floor as he gestured everyone inside. Harry slipped in after Piotr, taking in the cozy room equipped with a large table and a kitchenette, where Hilda was already at work.

"It'll be a bit cramped compared to our base camp," Bill warned, coming in and zipping up the flap. "We're one bedroom short, so someone'll have to bunk together."

"I'll take one for the team," Harry said dryly. Cramped, really. These pampered wizards should see what the inside of a Muggle tent looked like.

"There's two bathrooms," Bill continued. "One each for the gents and the ladies, I suppose."

Fia looked up from her attempts to snatch some raw ingredients while Hilda wasn't looking. "Ha! I've been called a lot of things, but rarely a _lady_."

"Would you prefer 'infernal bitch'?" Bill quipped.

A knife whizzed past his ear, embedding into the wooden paneling behind with a _thunk_. His hand slowly rose to pat his ear, a few severed strands of ginger hair sticking to his fingers. Fia straightened up from her throw and flashed her fangs.

"Right," Bill murmured, "I'll just shut up now."

"A wise decision," Hilda said, not looking up from oiling the pan. "Would you fetch me that knife, dear?"

Fia strutted back to retrieve the knife, feigning a lunge at Bill as she passed by. To his credit, he only flinched a little. Her cackle was cut short by Harry chopping her head with the edge of his palm. When she glared at him, he grinned despite himself. Bringing her along on the expedition had been a gamble, but if nothing else, she proved an excellent source of amusement.


	9. Tomb Raiding, Part Three

Harry yawned as he tailed the Curse-Breakers through the dim corridor. The mug of strong black tea he drank that sunless morning was still kicking in, and he was content to let Bill and the others take point. So far, they had encountered nothing but the same drab stone walls and damp floor for a good hundred paces.

He glanced to his side, where the cause of his lack of sleep pranced on obliviously. By the time he had returned from his watch last night, Fia was sleeping like a log, so he decided to take on her part too. It wasn't entirely out of kindness: she had a knack for interpreting orders creatively, and if feeling vindictive, she could've easily sounded the alarm because of a 'suspicious shadow' or some such.

Her skin was still pale, but the uninterrupted rest must've helped her recover from yesterday's ordeal because she was pivoting her head to check out the occasional carving on the walls with idle curiosity, the swishing of her tail betraying her frustration with their snail-like pace. It was only because he was watching her that he noticed her nostrils flare and her tail stiffen. Peering ahead intently, she sidled toward the wall.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, guys?" Piotr and Hilda turned his way, then in front of them, Bill and Samuel. He gestured vaguely at the floor ahead. "There might be... dunno, something."

The Curse-Breakers tensed up, the beams of their wand-lights focusing on his indicated direction to illuminate an unremarkable patch of grimy stone. At Bill's gesture, they backpedaled, retracing their earlier steps.

"Revelio." A jet of blue light from Bill's wand splashed against the stone to no effect. Harry was beginning to feel rather stupid, but Bill had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ronnie's debut, I reckon."

"Ronnie's?" Harry asked.

"Bit of an inside joke," Bill said, looking sheepish for some reason. "Don't tell Mum, alright?"

Bill's hand dipped into his trouser pocket and surfaced clutching a small rock that he dropped on the floor. An intricate twirl of his wand had the rock ballooning, turning pink, and sprouting four limbs, morphing into a piglet that immediately proceeded to sniff around.

"I suppose there's some resemblance," Harry deadpanned.

Snorting, Bill jabbed his wand, and the creature waddled forward with happy little oinks. It trotted past the illuminated spot, and Harry was about to apologize for wasting everyone's time when the flagstone under its tiny hooves depressed with a soft click. A hair-thin blade swung out from the wall, bisecting the piglet before it could so much as squeak; the two halves flopped on the floor, spraying out blood.

Fia's clapping broke the stunned silence. "It even has guts and everything! Oh, oh—can you make a bigger one?"

"A classic," Samuel remarked. "Yet how unexpected to see a blade trap down here... Perhaps the builders of this place borrowed a few ideas from abroad. Intriguing."

Bill transfigured Ronnie's remains back into their original state and set about outlining the booby-trapped flagstone in green paint. Harry tried to clear the image of the piglet's gruesome end out of his mind's eye. He had been rooting for the little guy—but better it than Samuel or Bill.

He went rigid at the thought. Glancing at the four Curse-Breakers and finding them deep in discussion, he seized Fia by the elbow and dragged her back the way they came. She struggled, but not enough to break out of his grasp. Once they were a short distance away, he pushed her up against the wall.

"You _knew_ there was a trap," he said in an undertone.

"I had a hunch. That spot reeked of death." She squirmed a little under his glare. "What of it? If worst came to worst, I'm sure you could just wave your sticks and put him back together."

"Him?" Harry tried to recall who would've stepped on the booby-trapped flagstone if it weren't for his warning. "_Samuel_. He wasn't impressed with you, so now you want to kill him, is that it? Just how vain are you?"

"I merely wanted to see what would happen." She flinched when Harry slammed his palm on the wall beside her head. "You don't understand! That person, he... I don't"—her voice dropped to a whisper—"I don't think he's even _human_."

Harry gaped. Her beseeching expression, the conviction in her voice, her wide eyes... He broke into laughter. Wiping a tear from his eye, he gave Bill's group a thumbs-up to reassure them, then murmured a _Muffliato_ for additional privacy.

Fia gave him a baleful look. "I'm serious. There's no darkness in his heart, no fear. It's not _natural_."

He snickered some more. "So you decided to see what his insides looked like? That logic would almost be cute if it weren't so twisted."

Crimson entered her cheeks. "Even when you were but a child, I could sense specks of blackness in your soul. That person is like the monks our loremasters tell stories about: incorruptible." She straightened up abruptly, her gaze straying toward the Curse-Breakers. "You don't suppose one of their wretched orders survived and is sending inquisitors to smoke out my kind?"

"Samuel has a loving wife and three kids—he showed me the photos." Harry patted her head. "The man's no monk, Fia. He's just a devoted scientist."

"A scientist," Fia repeated, rolling the word around her mouth. "Yes, I've heard of their ilk. He must've gone through grueling training to become the way he is."

Harry didn't bother correcting her misconception; if he kicked the bucket and Fiamette returned to hell, perhaps she'd convince her fellow demons that scientists weren't to be trifled with, and they would decide to leave Earth alone.

"Harry?" Bill called.

"Coming!" He fixed Fia with a stare. "If you have another hunch, I want you to tell us immediately. And no trying to take apart Samuel, even indirectly, okay?"

She averted her gaze.

"_Fia_."

"Very well," she said grumpily.

"Trouble in paradise?" Piotr asked as they rejoined the group.

"It's fine." Glancing at Samuel, who was pushing his oversized spectacles up his nose, he couldn't help but snort. "Let's go."

As the day dragged on, Harry found himself missing the excitement of that morning—not the deadly trap, heavens forbid, but something to break up the monotony. With the darkness creeping before and behind them, the claustrophobic passageway seemed endless. There were no forks, no rooms, no doorways, and the floor was wholly level. He tried to amuse himself by counting the flagstones, but even that grew old after a couple thousand. Beside him, Fia was climbing the walls—figuratively and almost literally.

For all their experience, even the Curse-Breakers weren't immune to boredom. Their conversations veered off tangent, their voices dulled, and breaks became more frequent, until Bill eventually ordered to set up camp in what was, according to his watch, early evening.

"We're getting distracted," he said curtly. "It's too dangerous to go on like this."

Harry volunteered to cook and busied himself preparing a hearty stew, trying to keep Fia's claws off the raw beef as he listened to the conference at the table with half an ear.

"If you gents have any bright ideas, I'm all ears," Hilda said.

"There's a curve to the passage—very slight, but it's there," Bill said. "Haven't the foggiest what it means though."

Piotr grunted. "We not walk circles, I guarantee. But is weird."

"Weird is right, my friend," Samuel said. "Nothing I know about the Balts would suggest they were prone to building such unfathomably extensive catacombs. Either this structure isn't what we expected at all, or... "

"Or what?"

"Frankly, William, your guess is as good as mine."

In the end, they retired without coming to a conclusion—but not before gorging themselves on the stew. Fia pronounced it too bland, but still polished off two bowls, to Harry's private satisfaction.

* * *

A night's sleep brought no clarity. They set off at the same snail's pace early in the morning. The first two Curse-Breakers scouted for danger, while the following pair experimented with increasingly obscure spells in attempts to crack the corridor's mystery. Behind them, Harry was fending off Fia's salacious suggestions to retreat into the tent for something more fun and catch up later. He didn't fancy getting lost, even if the corridor did appear straight as an arrow.

The monotonous slog was getting to everyone. Conversations dwindled, wands moved with less vigor and more dogged persistence, but their pace actually quickened as they grew less cautious. It was around afternoon that Fia spoke up, breaking the silence that had been stretching on for at least a quarter of an hour.

"Trap." She pointed dully ahead.

Startled out of his daydream, Harry peered ahead. Samuel and Bill were at the vanguard, trekking onward with almost mechanical perseverance and showing no indication of having heard her quiet warning.

He sucked in a breath. "_Stop_!"

Everyone halted in their tracks, Piotr actually jumping a little, and Harry had to shield his eyes when he became a target of four lights. "Uh, trap. Again."

The lights whipped forward in unison. Left in semidarkness, he glared at Fia.

She shrugged. "What? I did warn them."

"A bit louder next time, please," he said dryly.

"_Pfft_. Very well, I shall adjust my voice to the level of your mortals' feeble hearing."

He sighed, suspecting her next warning would put their eardrums in danger of bursting. For someone purportedly over a century old, she was such a brat_._

There was a whoosh of displaced air ahead, followed by a squeak and a wet squelch. Perking up, Fia pranced toward the group, Harry lagging by a step. The Curse-Breakers had arranged themselves in a half-circle before an unremarkable patch of floor off which Bill hurriedly scrubbed the gore. If Harry squinted, he could just about make out a single flagstone sticking out a fraction above the rest.

Samuel ran his hand through his shaggy hair. "I thought it weird the first time, and my opinion hasn't changed. Such traps are completely out of place here, nor do they jibe with the Balts' modus operandi. Their sorcerers were about leading enemies astray, turning their strength against them... This is almost like a prank some enterprising youngster cobbled up while his superiors were busy."

"A prank," Harry repeated blandly.

Fia laughed. "For all their abominable faith, they must've shared my kind's humor."

Bill straightened up after painting the flagstone green. "The mechanism's far from elaborate, but the fact that it's entirely mundane makes detection difficult." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, Fia."

She looked away. "Hmph. I merely figured I still need you to break into the heart of this place."

"The heart, huh." Bill considered the darkness behind them and moved his wand in an intricate twirl, leaving runes glowing mid-air. "We've walked four miles since the beginning and almost two since the last trap, and it doesn't feel one inch closer to me."

"Exactly the same type of trap," Samuel said, pushing up his glasses. "Spaced almost evenly apart."

Hilda's stared at the fresh outline on the floor. "Sammy, you're not saying—but no, this one was unmarked—"

Fia stepped closer, sniffing at the air. "It _smells_ the same."

Heads whipped toward her, then to the floor again.

Piotr grunted, "Space fold."

"Impossible," Bill said. "Spatial magic was developed centuries after this was built."

Piotr crossed his arms. "In _Britain_, maybe."

Bill scowled, then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "You never know."

The tennis-like exchange was making Harry dizzy. "Sorry, are you saying we've been walking around in some kind of a... space loop?"

"Space loop, space donut, space-bloody-spiderweb," Bill said with a testy wave of his hand. "It can take any configuration you can imagine."

"It's the ones you _can't_ imagine that are the worst," Hilda said with a wan smile.

"What I don't understand is how this happened." Bill scratched his head. "We left an offering and all. Surely the magic wouldn't trap the believers coming to pay their respects."

"If I may offer a hypothesis," Samuel said, peering at a carving on the wall thoughtfully, "we might've missed a crucial step—something that would've been common sense to a native, such as wearing all-linen or not carrying iron upon one's person. We cannot be certain now, but the fact remains that at some point early into our exploration we were transported into this endless passageway—a _false_ passageway—to wander in confusion until our end."

Everyone's wand-lights appeared to dim a little.

"Which is _not_ going to happen now that we know what's going on," Bill said firmly. "Checklist, people. Apparition?"

Piotr took half a step back, did an awkward twirl on his heel, then groaned and clutched his head.

"That's out," Bill murmured. "Portkey?"

Hilda rummaged in her pocket, produced a piece of pink string, and tapped it with her wand to no effect. "Blocked."

Bill hummed, glancing the way they came. "Retracing our steps?"

"That's just as likely to put us into another dimensional branch as going forward," Samuel said, appearing almost excited at the idea.

Piotr knocked at the wall with his knuckles, scowling. "Break through?"

The Curse-Breakers exchanged wary glances.

"That's risking a cave-in, but we're short on options," Bill said. "Unless there are better ideas... No? Piotr, you do the honors. Shields on the ready, folks."

Piotr pressed his broad back against the wall before taking aim at the one opposite. The other Curse-Breakers put some distance between them. Harry belatedly mimicked their actions, his fingers tightening around his wand.

"Three, two, one," Piotr said. "Reducto."

The jet of azure hurtled almost at a right angle toward the wall, _rebounded_ upon impact, whizzed past Piotr's ear, then bounced again toward Fia, who somersaulted over it. Cries of alarm rang as everyone ducked, allowing the azure jet to ping-pong overhead, gradually losing its luster. Harry turned to witness the blueish light vanish in the darkness behind them.

"Bloody hell," Bill murmured, straightening up. "Is everyone alright?"

Harry looked around, finding the Curse-Breakers unhurt if shaken. Fia just rolled her eyes and brushed a non-existent piece of lint off her shoulder.

"How fascinating," Samuel said, rapping the wall with his wand. "I wonder if other hexes would trigger the same effect. Acid Orb might be effective—"

"Samuel! Samuel, hang on." Bill released a relieved breath when the man lowered his wand. "That sort of experimenting is our last resort. I don't fancy a repeat of Piotr nearly blowing his head off—for all that it would have improved his looks." He gave the man a shaky smile.

Piotr snorted. "You not beauty queen too, Weasley."

"Aha," Samuel said with a look of a man who had a revelation, "so _that's_ how you use a joke to ease tension."

Hilda laid a hand atop his shoulder. "You're ruining it, Sammy."

Bill shook his head, but his smile looked more genuine now. "Let's take a break, sit down, and think this out before doing anything rash. Could we trouble you for more of your magical coffee, Hilda?"

Ten minutes later found Harry lounging in a camp chair and sipping the piping-hot coffee—which indeed tasted magical—as he watched Fia spike hers with a generous pinch of chili powder nicked from the tent's pantry. Around them raged a Curse-Breaking debate with which he had long since given up any pretense of keeping up.

"...that daft booby trap is like a landmark, we can use it to track the distance between the resets..."

"...It's no Möbius strip, William, it's a non-Euclidean manifold of some type—you mustn't think in terms of ordinary topology..."

"...recall that Hemlock's third theorem states that if there's an entrance into a space fold, there must be a..."

Clasping her mug, Fia scooted closer to Harry. "Does all that blabber mean anything, or do they just like the sound of their voices?"

"Er..." He took another sip to stall for time. "Basically, we have no clue how to get out. I think."

She snorted. "Silly mortals. Hold my coffee."

"What are you..." He trailed off as Fia handed him her mug, rose to her feet, and cracked her knuckles.

The others' voices died down as she approached the wall and reared her arm theatrically. Before anyone could warn her, she punched.

_Crack_!

Her slender arm juddered from the impact, and she staggered back with a cry. Harry barely noted the spiderweb of cracks across the stone before he laid the cups down and bolted toward her. She was cradling her right hand with a pained expression.

"Are you alright?"

"Of c-course. It's just a little tougher than I expected." Her fangs bared in a snarl.

He raised his wand. "Show me."

"Why would I?" She hid her hand behind her back. "I'm not a mortal to be injured by a little punch."

He shook his head, a wry smile finding its way onto his lips. "It actually hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?"

"I'm _fine_." She shoved him away before approaching the wall again. "That was just a warm-up. Now witness my true power!"

She flung up her right hand, its knuckles bloodied, and gathered black fire in her palm. Balling her fingers into a fist, she coated it up to her wrist in the flickering flames.

Bill said, "Wait—"

Heedless, Fiamette punched. There was another crack that made Harry wince in sympathy, but this time it was accompanied by an angry hiss of the black flame eating into the fractured stone.

Fia gave a triumphant cry, but an instant later, the flames were drawn off her fist and absorbed into the wall. An answering stream of white emerged in their stead, blinding in its brilliance, and Fia fell on her arse in her hurry to evade it.

Harry stared in horror as the white fire hurtled toward Hilda, who was seated against the opposite wall. "_Protect her_!"

Fia screamed, pivoting on one foot and lunging to shield Hilda. Her palms came up, summoning hellfire to meet the white conflagration head-on. White clashed with black in a sizzling spray of sparks, and her face contorted, her eyes narrowing into slits. The opposing energies were annihilating each other, but the white conflagration was pushing, gaining, almost concealing Fia's hunched form with its radiance. She snarled, pressing her back against the wall, while beneath her feet, Hilda crawled to safety.

The torrent of white flames sputtered out, plunging the corridor into darkness. Something thudded to the ground. A horrible smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Harry's wand rose without conscious thought, illuminating Fia's prone form.

He sank to his knees beside her. "Fia!"

"She needs healing!" Bill bellowed.

Everyone seemed to move at once. Harry barely touched her shoulder to flip her over and examine her injuries when he was shoved roughly aside.

"Inside," Piotr said, waving his wand over her blistered palms.

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Go!" the man snapped, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the tent Bill was erecting.

Catching on, Harry gathered her in his arms and barreled through the entrance. He laid her atop a couch and grimaced at the sight. Her wavy hair was singed, her smoking robes strewn with scorch marks, but it was her hands that suffered the brunt of the damage: they were reddened and blistered, and her sleeves were charred almost up to her elbows. Whatever the white flames had been, they had easily overcome her natural resistance to fire.

With a jingling of glass, Piotr arrayed several bottles on the table. Picking out three, he thrust one at Harry.

"Make her drink," was all he said before he stooped over Fia's insensate form to slice off her charred sleeves.

Harry scowled, but a glance at the bottle made him swallow his retort. It contained a purple liquid with a swirl of blue atop—pain reliever, something he had been unfortunate enough to familiarize himself with during the war. He glanced at Piotr with newfound respect, then crouched over Fia. Wedging a hand under her head, he raised it gently before parting her lips and tipping the bottle to pour some potion into her mouth. Not entirely sure what he was doing, he massaged her throat, smiling in relief when she swallowed.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stirred with a moan.

"Shh, don't move," he said, laying her head on the pillow. "You're in good hands."

And it was true. After cutting off the ruined fabric, Piotr slathered a greenish salve over the burns. His movements were both confident and gentle, something one wouldn't expect given his bear-sized hands. At length, he wiped his palms and waved his wand to swaddle Fia's arms up to the elbows in bandages.

"Done," he announced. The multiple sighs of relief made Harry realize with a start that he wasn't the only one worried. "Human need maybe week to heal. But..." He shrugged.

Giving Piotr a grateful nod, Harry reached for her bandaged hand but thought the better of it. "How do you feel?"

"Sore. Weak." Her gaze took in the gathered, and she licked her lips. "Hungry."

Hilda came up to stroke her hair. "Anything I could make for you?"

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Meat! Loads of it, and don't you _dare_ skimp on the pepper! It'll help me get my strength back."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Is that really how it—"

"Great Astaroth, the agony!" she cried, cradling her hands to her chest.

Hilda tutted. "Oh, you poor dear. Just rest, I'll fry some up right away." She went to rummage in the pantry.

Bill trailed her with his gaze. "We're trapped in some dimensional fuckery, and you decide to _cook_?"

"Don't cuss, Billy, it doesn't become you."

"So woozy..." Fia murmured, sagging onto the pillow.

"Hang in there, dear, hang in there!" Hilda called as she slammed the pan onto the hotplate and fetched a huge hunk of beef from the icebox.

"I like it bloody," Fia said helpfully.

Harry shot her a suspicious glance, but the impish glint in her eyes notwithstanding, her injuries were genuine. He hid a smile. Since he was the one to effectively order her to sacrifice herself, he might as well let her have her fun.

Bill threw his hands up. "You know what? Screw it, let's eat steak and break out the Firewhisky while we're at it. Not like we have any better ideas at the moment." He headed for the exit. "I'll set up the proximity alarms."

Harry slid in behind the table next to Piotr. After watching him work on Fia's injuries, the burly man somehow seemed more approachable. "Is this standard Curse-Breaker procedure?"

Piotr grinned. "Good leader know when team need break."

He nodded thoughtfully. Here, in the brightly lit and magically expanded tent, the prospect of being stuck in the gloomy corridor for the foreseeable future didn't seem so daunting.

Hilda laid the first slab of meat into the sputtering oil, and with a merry sizzle, a mouthwatering smell wafted through the room. Fia perked up and cracked open one eye, then quickly closed it when she noticed Harry looking. He chuckled.

After the food was done, he helped Fia to the table and drew her a chair. She plopped down, sniffed greedily at the steaming steak and greens before her, then contemplated her thickly bandaged hands. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on Harry. She pranced over, planted her bottom in his lap, and parted her lips expectantly.

"_Aah_."

Harry snorted. Pulling his own plate closer, he carved his steak and offered her a steaming pink slice. She plucked it off the fork with her teeth and chomped down, her eyes narrowing in relish.

"More," she demanded, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick the grease off her lips.

He proffered another slice, and she leaned forward in a hurry to snatch it. Harry shifted slightly as her bottom rubbed against him. Sensing his discomfort, Fia gave a theatrical shudder of pleasure as she chewed, meeting his glare with doe eyes.

In retaliation, he speared and brought up a green bean. She wrinkled her nose as he brushed its end against her lips.

"Go on—_aah_," he said in a sing-song voice. "You need your strength back, remember?"

"Vegetable healthy," Piotr said.

Outnumbered, Fia squeezed her eyes shut and ate it, making her revulsion known through an exaggerated grimace. There was a clink of silverware to his right, and Harry turned his head to find her tail wrap nimbly around a fork. Extending toward the plate originally set out for her, it poked blindly at the untouched steak. He grasped her tail, making her squeak and drop the fork.

"Weren't you too weak to feed yourself?" he whispered.

"I am," she said, her voice hitching as his fingers glided up her tail. "And it's your fault for giving me that unreasonable order."

"Then be a good girl and let me take care of you just like you wanted, hmm?" His fork hovered over the steak before stabbing more greens. He smirked at her tiny groan.

Their little game continued long after everyone else had polished off their plates—including Bill, who returned after setting up extensive protections outside. (His declaration that the night watch was canceled was greeted with subdued cheers.) At long last, after single-handedly consuming most of their meat supply, even Fiamette was satiated.

Now that poor Hilda was allowed a break from cooking, they broke out the promised Firewhisky, and she shared some stories from her long and colorful career with her rapt audience. Even Piotr was engrossed, his booming laughter drowning out Hilda's voice more and more often with every glass he downed.

Despite her injuries, Fia wheedled them into allowing her to drink too, lifting her glass with her tail. As the resident healer, Piotr approved it in lieu of painkillers. After watching her gulp down the liquor as though it were water, he predictably challenged her to a drinking contest, which ended with an equally predictable result of the much heavier man conked out on the table.

Suffice to say, not much thinking was done in regards to their current predicament—with the exception of Bill and Samuel, that is. While the others were merely passing time, the two men brought out a blackboard and engaged in a hushed yet intense discussion. Harry would've felt guilty about not contributing if it weren't for the fact that the topics they talked about were completely beyond his ken.

"Any luck?" Hilda asked when Bill sat tiredly at the table.

"Not as such." He considered the filled glass she nudged toward him, sighed, and accepted.

"Highly stimulating discussion, nevertheless," Samuel said, settling in beside the snoring Piotr. "We believe this could be an entirely new configuration of spatial magic. If no one objects, I would like to write a paper on it after we get back."

"I'm not entirely sure we _are_ getting back," Bill murmured, staring at his drink.

"Chin up, William! We have some bright minds here, I'm certain we'll think of something." Samuel gave a thoughtful look to Fia, who appeared uneasy at his attention. "Such as the young lady's remarkable performance. The result was quite dramatic, I must say, and quite unlike the previous reaction to a wand spell. Just what was that magic, if I may ask?"

"Hellfire," Fia said, not facing him.

"And how would one learn to cast this"—he mimed quote marks—"_hellfire_? I would be curious to try some things out myself."

Fia gritted her teeth. "You'd need to live a life of sin, get reincarnated as a demon, and undergo training by your elders."

"Ah, so the charade goes on," Samuel muttered to himself. "Let's see... Could we pretend just for one moment that I am one of these 'demons'? What would be the first step in learning to create those black flames?" He leaned over the table eagerly.

"You—you bloody—" Fia's gaze darted around helplessly. "Ow, my burns hurt, and I'm so tired! I must rest!" Bolting to her feet, she fled into her and Harry's room, her flicking tail disappearing through the closing door an instant before it slammed shut.

Samuel watched her leave with a glum expression. "I get the impression young Fia doesn't like me very much," he commented, making Harry snort into his Firewhisky. "She does have the right idea, though. It's getting late, and I'm not as young as I used to be. Good night, folks."

"We have a busy day ahead of us," Bill agreed. "I'll levitate the beauty queen here to his bed so he doesn't wake up with a crick in his neck and act all grumpy tomorrow. Well, _grumpier_."

The room quickly emptied, leaving just Harry and Hilda. He rose to his feet, intending to duck into the bathroom while it wasn't occupied, but a creak of a door made him pause. Turning, he glimpsed a shock of crimson hair and one violet cat-like eye peering through a narrow gap.

"Thank the Prince of Darkness he's gone," Fia said emphatically, tiptoeing back into the living room.

Harry laughed. "I thought you said you were going to sleep."

"I was, but..." She lifted her bandaged hands. "I'm _so_ sweaty and dirty, but I can't even clean myself with these. If only there was someone who could help me wash." Pouting, she batted her lashes at Harry.

"I'll help you, dear," Hilda said. "It's the least I could do."

Fia's gaze swept over Hilda, sizing her up, and her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I wouldn't mind you joining in, but I'm not sure Harry would be up for it. He has such silly hang-ups."

"Oh?" Hilda blinked several times, then chortled. "_Meine Güte_. In that case, don't let me get in your way. I'll use the other bathroom tonight." Humming what sounded suspiciously like 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love', she departed.

"Well?" Fia said, arching an eyebrow. "Won't you please get me nice and clean?"

He sighed, privately amused. "You do realize the act isn't working on me, right? I've seen you shrug off injuries twice as bad."

Her eyes sparkled. "Isn't that the way you like me—helpless and dependent on your benevolence? I don't mind playing along if that's what gets you going."

Laughing at his peeved expression, she sashayed into the bathroom. Harry glared at the door, chuckled to himself, and followed.

While modest in size, the bathroom was furnished with porcelain tiles and brass faucets that wouldn't have looked out of place in a posh townhouse. He shrugged off his robes and unbuckled his belt, bouncing on one leg to yank off his trousers. Fia's gaze flicked down, and she licked her lips before spreading her bandaged arms and sticking out her chest expectantly.

"Couldn't you just use your magic to clean yourself?" he grumbled good-naturedly as he unbuttoned her ruined, sleeveless robes.

"The bandages would catch fire. Besides, I don't think I can even channel my flames properly given the state of my hands."

"So you were hurt pretty seriously," he said, pulling the robes off while she bent her arms back.

Fia shot him a wounded look. "Of course I was. And it's _your_ fault, just like last time."

He stepped closer. "One could also say it was because of your overconfidence."

She frowned, not meeting his eyes. "The backlash caught me off guard, that's all. Those pagans had some nerve, weaving their disgusting sorceries all over this place. I can't wait to plunder it and laugh as their souls weep in the afterlife."

"Charming," he murmured, sliding the straps of her blouse off her slender shoulders.

The garment flopped to the floor, and Fia stepped out of it, now clad only in pink underwear. Smirking at him, she nudged up her breasts with her arms.

"Why, master," she purred, pressing up to him, "is that a lecherous gaze I sense?"

"Merely wondering what your kin would say if they knew of your fondness for stuff like this." He jerked his chin at the stylized kitty on the front of her knickers.

Her cheeks colored as she averted her gaze. "We're all about freedom from pesky things like rules and morals. There's no shame in indulging one's desires."

"Even if it's cutesy underwear?" he teased.

She stuck out her tongue. "Even then. Now hurry up and get me out of these—carefully!" She turned around.

"Watch the attitude," he warned, and swatted her bottom without any real anger. Ignoring the glare she shot at him over her shoulder, he unclasped her bra, then angled her tail to slide down her knickers. If he ripped another limited-edition pair, she would never let him hear the end of it.

Hooking the knickers deftly on her toes, she chucked them into a hamper, then strutted into the shower without a backward glance. His gaze was drawn to the sway of her hips. Following her inside, he yanked the curtain closed and turned the tap, causing hot water to spray on their heads.

He groaned contentedly as the day's sweat was rinsed off his skin. Beside him, Fiamette made a show of alternatively sticking her butt and chest under the stream while she held her arms outstretched to keep the bandages dry.

"I can't reach," she whinged, thrusting her wet arse at him. "You won't make me go to bed all filthy, will you?"

Picking up the soap, he worked up some lather. "Come here."

She promptly stuck out her chest, shimmying her shoulders and grinning impishly. Rolling his eyes, he started from her upper arms, massaging the scented lather into her skin. She moaned exaggeratedly when he moved on to her ample breasts, but he ignored her antics with practiced ease. Detaching the showerhead, he rinsed her off.

She turned and wriggled her arse at him. "You missed a spot."

"Oh?"

"Yes, right here." Bending over, she parted her thighs slightly, her tail pointing down at her puffy mound. "This spot feels very dirty."

He snorted. "We might be forever stuck in an ancient graveyard, and you get horny?"

"That's because you've been neglecting my needs." She sent him a pout over her shoulder. "Not befitting a good master at all."

He gave her a flat stare. "You were fast asleep when I came in last night. Snoring."

"I don't snore!" she exclaimed, rounding on him. "And a true man would've just _taken_ what was his, so I'd wake up from being pounded."

The corners of his lips curved up. "I'll keep that in mind next time."

"Why wait?" She rubbed against him, hardened nipples sliding along his damp skin. He jerked when her tail poked at his crotch. "Don't tell me you're too tired. If so, perhaps I shall take up Hilda on her offer and ask for _her_ help."

Stooping, he wrapped his arms around her legs and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She squealed, pummeling his back with her small fists, although the punches lacked strength.

"Quiet," he said sternly, grabbing onto her flicking tail and making her gasp. "We don't want to wake anyone up."

A gust of warmth ruffled his hair, drying him off as he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed his wand before stepping up to the bathroom's door and nudging it open to peek outside. Seeing no one, he hurriedly hauled the warm demoness on his shoulder toward their bedroom.

Fia wriggled against him. "Oh Harry, I can't wait for you to ravage me!"

He smacked her bare bottom. "Shut it." The stupid handle wouldn't turn; he struggled with it before realizing the door wasn't latched and kicking it open.

She moaned sensuously. "I _love_ it when you're rough like that."

"Quiet, minx," he growled, torn between amusement and exasperation. Striding into the moderately-sized bedroom, he unceremoniously heaved Fia onto the bed, causing the breath to expel from her lungs, then doubled back to lock and silence the door. "Why do you insist on annoying everyone?"

"Oh, I don't care about _them_ in the least," she said, rolling onto her back. "It's just highly amusing to watch you squirm as if you were an innocent stripling with not two decades under your belt." She paused in mock consideration. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting you _are _one."

Tamping down his irritation, he lay his wand atop a bedside cabinet. "If you wanted me to fuck your brains out that bad, you should've just said so. There's no need to think up all these ways to rile me up."

"Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed. "I'm only using your grotesque appendage to scratch an itch, nothing more."

"Looks like another lesson on watching your mouth is in order." He walked up to the bed, his cock standing at attention. "Get over here."

Rolling away, she stuck out her long tongue. "Come and get me."

He growled. "If you insist." Reaching out, he clasped both of her horns and tugged.

"B-brute! Barbarian! Unhand me this instant!" Her bandaged arms flailed helplessly as he dragged her closer.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" He yanked her up to his bobbing cock. When her lips stubbornly remained closed, he rubbed it against her face, gripping her horns as she attempted to pull away. "I know you've been dying for a taste, you horny succubus."

"That's nothing but an ignorant myth—"

Her indignant exclamation cut off as Harry shoved his cock into her mouth, Fia reflexively loosening her jaw to avoid grazing it with her teeth. She made a muffled noise of protest; heedless, he began thrusting.

"Look at you slobber over my cock," he grunted. "The proper position for a slutty demoness."

Her misty eyes peered up, her slit pupils dilating. He felt her hot tongue swirl along his underside.

"Bet you've been fantasizing about this all day. Pretending to be tough, while creaming your kitty panties at the idea of being ravaged by a lowly human."

She made a noise and flicked her tail angrily, but could do little else while he fucked her throat with abandon.

"Here it comes. I'd tell you to swallow, but you'll do it anyway, won't you?" Keeping hold of one horn, he brushed the hair off her forehead. "My little cumslut."

There was no fight left in her glistening eyes as they peered at him expectantly, her nose buried in his pubes as she took him to the root. Her limber tail curved, its spade tip jerking rhythmically up and down between her legs.

Harry groaned as he spurted deep in her throat, not allowing her to pull back. He felt her swallow, again and again, until he was completely spent.

He let go of her horns, but she only drew back a fraction, keeping him in her mouth as she lapped at his member. Her upturned eyes sparkled in a challenge.

"Enough," he gasped, pushing her away.

Kneeling back, she coughed softly, licked her lips, and gave him a superior glance. "Wasn't that supposed to teach me a lesson? You didn't last two minutes in my mouth."

"I merely took mercy and let you drink the cum you so craved."

She grimaced. "As if I had much choice, with you manhandling my magnificent horns."

"Don't pretend you didn't love every second."

"As if."

Climbing on the bed, he clasped her tail and brought its glistening tip up to her face. "What's this, then?"

She looked away, blushing. He grasped her cheeks, making her part her lips, and stuck the tip into her mouth. Fia's eyes widened in surprise, but he could see her hungrily taste herself before pulling her tail out, a trail of saliva connecting it with her lips. She shot him a halfhearted glare.

"That's right, get it nice and clean. I worked too hard washing you to let it go to waste. That reminds me..." He pushed her down, her breath escaping her lips. "You said I missed a spot. Where was it, again?"

He claimed her lips before trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone, her skin hot as if burning with a fever, smelling mildly of soap and her own spicy scent. She shivered as he kissed down the valley between her breasts.

"Was it here?" he murmured, blowing on a puckered nipple before taking it into his mouth.

She gasped, her bandaged hand rising to his head.

"Hmm. Maybe here?" He trailed his lips down to her navel, feeling her deceptively strong muscles ripple under her skin. "Or perhaps..."

Scooting lower still, he nudged her legs apart and peppered kisses up her inner thigh. He paused before her puffy mound, smooth save for a neat triangle of crimson curls above, her pink nether lips peeking out and glistening with arousal. Her breath hitched in anticipation, but he instead trailed kisses down her other thigh. She growled, reaching for his head, but her bandage-swaddled hands found no purchase in his hair. Wriggling, she freed her tail and wrapped his neck to lightly tug him up.

"What is it?" he asked, giving her tail a lick and making it loosen. "I'm still looking for your dirty spot."

"_Here_, foolish mortal," she said, impatiently tugging him closer.

"I'm just a foolish mortal." He traced light kisses around her cleft. "So I have trouble finding my way around."

"Just... touch me already!" She tilted her head forward to meet his eyes, her pupils dark with desire.

He hid his smile as he teased her folds apart, inhaled her heady scent, and pressed a kiss to her peeking clit. She gasped and arched her hips to prolong the contact, but he ventured lower, teasing her inner lips with the tip of his tongue. She mewled, her bandaged fingers scrabbling at his head.

"You'll hurt yourself," he chided, taking a moment to pin her hands to the blanket. "Keep still or I'll stop."

She whined but obeyed as he returned to his languid ministrations, delving deeper to lap at her intoxicating nectar. His tongue nice and wet, he flicked at her clit, glancing up to see her muffle a moan by biting her lip. Pleased, he left it alone in favor of teasing around her entrance.

Her tail bent, its tip sliding down her pubic hair. He intercepted it before it could reach its destination, holding on firmly to the smooth cord.

"You want it here that bad?" He swiped his tongue across her little nub. "Do you?"

"_Yes_," she gasped out.

"Well, I have other plans." He eased a finger inside her; to this day, her incredible heat never ceased to amaze him. At the same time, he brought the heart-shaped tip of her tail to his lips and ran his tongue along its edge.

Fia groaned, clenching around his finger. "_You're_ the real demon here."

"You must be rubbing off on me," he said as he curled his finger inside her. "After all, we've been doing a lot of that."

"I hate—_youuuu_!" Her voice broke as he sucked lightly on her clit; feeling her clench, he switched back to teasing her tail. Her frustrated groan was music to his ears.

"You want to cum?" he said, stroking inside her. "Beg for it like the slut you are." He nibbled lightly on her tail.

"B-blasted mortal." She panted. "Just service me as is your lot in life."

He sighed exasperatedly. "I try to be nice, yet you keep acting up. You _want_ to be punished, is that it?"

She jutted out her chin, but the display of defiance was lessened by her flushed face and heaving chest. "What are you going to do—lick me to death?"

"Maybe." His lips twisted, and he infused his voice with authority. "_You're not allowed to climax_."

Letting go of her twitching tail, he spread her apart for better access and laved her clit with his tongue, giving her everything she had been craving and more.

"_Fuck_," she said, writhing beneath him. "Yes, just like that..."

Her muscles tensed, relaxed, then tensed harder. Bucking her hips, she mashed her cunt to his mouth, but it was futile; her pleasure kept building and building, like a dammed river, yet found no release. He slipped in another finger for her to clench feverishly around and kept at it.

"By Luficer!" Her limbs thrashed, hands scrabbling at the sheets, her whimpers growing almost pained. "Let m-me—"

He replaced his tongue with his thumb, circling her quivering clit lightly but steadily. "Not till you ask properly, slut."

Her eyes were teary, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Ple-please—"

Prying her legs farther apart, he returned to lapping at her exposed nub. She trembled, and a desperate moan swallowed her words. He worked a third finger into her throbbing cunt without breaking his rhythm.

"Master," she whimpered, "your slut... can't..." She sucked in a breath, her head tossing side to side. "P-please..."

"_Cum._" Sucking her clit into his mouth, he stroked her front wall with his fingers.

A scream erupted from her throat, and she arched like a bow, her thighs squeezing his skull. Her body convulsed as all the pent-up ecstasy crashed over her at once, her head tilting so far back her horns scraped the headboard. She gushed and spasmed around his fingers, and he could hear her primal cry even with her thighs crushing his ears.

He had been beginning to fear for his life when her legs at last loosened. Pulling away, he rolled his neck and admired her quivering form. He glanced at his right hand, slick with her juices, before stooping over Fia and brushing his thumb over her lip.

Her glassy eyes gazed at the ceiling, not acknowledging him, yet her lips parted obediently. He shoved his slick fingers inside, feeling her tongue roll around them in between gasps of breath. His cock twitched, rock-hard for a while now. Propping himself on an elbow, he reached back to angle it at her opening.

She stirred, her hazy eyes centering on his. "Impatient much?"

"Just taking what's mine," he whispered, slipping inside her scalding heat.

She gasped into his ear, her inner muscles squeezing as he penetrated her. Any thought of holding back fled his mind, and doing good on his promise, he took her as he pleased.

Fia moaned, locking her eyes with his, and he stooped to kiss her. She spread her knees to better accommodate him, her body molding to his as she returned the kiss hungrily.

He thrust deeper. Her hands snaked around his shoulders, pulling him closer, her laborious gasps hot on his face. Bending over her ear, he licked and nibbled his way toward the pointy tip.

She hooked her ankles around his waist, clinging to him tighter. He met her half-lidded eyes, nothing but lust in their dark depths.

"Yours," she breathed, tightening around him, "yours."

An involuntary groan erupted in his throat. He sped up for the last spurt, each thrust burying him deep. The slick tip of her tail came up to caress his tightening balls.

"Harry," she moaned, "My master."

Her nails raked his back, and her legs clamped around his waist, the contractions of her inner walls coaxing out his release. Sheathing himself in her, he threw back his head and came with an animalistic cry. She clung to him desperately as he filled her with his seed, milking him for every last drop.

Slumping, he groaned into her neck. When her death hold on him loosened, he rolled off her and caught his breath. She snuggled into his chest, and he hugged her close, feeling an occasional tremor ripple through her. His eyes fluttered shut.


	10. Tomb Raiding, Part Four

Everyone awoke later than usual the next morning, which suited Harry just fine. After a quiet breakfast, the Curse-Breakers exited the tent to perform some tests—rolling steel balls down the corridor, pulling out measuring tapes, observing the swings of a pendulum—that he found mostly incomprehensible. While he didn't want to interfere with their work, Fia had no such compunctions, flitting around and bombarding them with questions.

"Is that a weapon?" she asked Hilda, who was tapping the wall with what looked like a crystal tuning fork, creating high-pitched chimes. "A torture device, to drive your victims mad from the sound?"

"I'll explain later, dear," Hilda said kindly, then shot _Harry_ a glare. Really, that wasn't fair.

He rubbed his forehead and grumbled, "Leave the woman to her work, Fia."

"Alright," she chirped and pranced over to where he was slouching against the wall.

Bill's head turned at the unusual display of obedience. Harry offered him a weak smile, then eyed Fia. Her olive skin glowed warmly, and her hair had a healthy sheen to it. All in all, she looked more rejuvenated than ever since her involuntary dip in the swamp. Whereas _he_ felt drained and had a crick in his neck.

"Damn succubus," he muttered. Most books mentioned the demons being able to steal humans' vitality, although none agreed on the extent. At least, given their pact, she wasn't capable of permanently harming him.

She clung to his arm and nuzzled against him like a cat. "You know how to service a woman, I'll give you that. If you enjoy the role that much, how about turning the reins over to me? I'd treat you well, for a servant."

"Keep running your mouth off, and I'll have to discipline you again."

She stood on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "Maybe that's what I want."

The corners of his lips twitched. "Maybe I'll think of something new that you won't enjoy quite as much."

She pressed her thighs together and squirmed, her tail flicking side to side. "Looking forward to it."

"Lovebirds!" Piotr bellowed. "Come listen!"

Wrenching his gaze away from her sparkling eyes and pouty lips, he took her by the elbow and rejoined the team. Bill rolled up a sheet of parchment with scribbles all over as he nodded at them.

"None of our measurements make the slightest bit of sense; hell, half contradict the other half. So, since we can't figure out the topology of the place at all, the logical conclusion would be that it _isn't_ a space fold." He glanced victoriously at Piotr, who crossed his arms. "Our working hypothesis is that the enchantments alter our perception. At a really deep level too—most of us know at least a smidgen of Occlumency, but that obviously didn't help."

"A true believer would stroll straight through these catacombs, guided by their faith," Samuel added, pushing up his glasses, "while heathens like us flail around, blind as bats, believing to have advanced miles, when in truth wandering in circles. Ingenious."

Piotr scoffed, "_If_ you right."

"Unless you have a better idea, we're going with the plan." Bill clapped once. "Break camp, people."

Several deft spells later the tent returned to Bill's enchanted rucksack and the Self-Adjusting Rope came out. They tied themselves into a file, Hilda at the front, and Harry at the very back just behind Fia.

"_Führe meine Hand_," Hilda chanted, raising the crystal fork high. "_Zeig mir was verborgen ist_." She struck the wall to her left, and a high, clear sound rang out, lingering in the air. Taking a few steps, the others following after a beat, she struck again. "_Führe meine Hand_..."

Bill glanced over his shoulder and whispered, "Tenser's Tuner. It always emits a pure sound, unaffected by mundane or magic interference. A hard-won artifact from one of Hilda's most storied digs."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Sound? How does that help us?"

"She reckons she can tell if she hits upon a hidden passage or even a curve in the wall by echo alone. Woman's a bloody genius." The rope tautened, and Bill took a hurried step, Fia and Harry following in turn. "Quiet now."

Step, _ring_, chant. Step, _ring_, chant. The peal of the tuning fork resounded again and again, resonating in his teeth, ringing in his ears long after the sound should've faded. Ahead of him, Fia's pointy ears kept twitching until she clamped her hands over them, sucking in air through her teeth.

Step, _ring_, chant. Hilda's voice never wavered. No one else spoke. Their steps acquired a mechanical efficiency, the rope between them remaining loose as they stepped exactly on the right time to follow the person ahead. It might've been ten minutes; it might've been five hours.

The crimson curtain of Fia's hair swished as she tilted her head curiously.

"Trap?" he asked, a little hoarsely.

She shook her head, raising a long-nailed finger to her lips. He strained his ears and tried to figure out what caught her attention.

"_Führe meine Hand_," Hilda chanted, and the tuning fork rang out, exactly the same as it had the last thousand times.

Fia glanced over her shoulder, smiling, then rolled her eyes. "You couldn't tell? Maybe I expected too much."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed.

"_Zeig mir was verborgen ist_," Hilda sang, markedly louder than before, and Harry shut his mouth sheepishly.

Two more rings, with no difference that he could discern—then silence. He raised his foot machinely to step forward but bumped against Fia, who had remained still. Sticking his head out to peer at the front, he found Hilda tapping a stretch of wall with the tuning fork but producing no sound whatsoever.

"You... did it," Bill said dully, then laughed. "You really did it!"

"Nice, very nice work," Samuel said.

Piotr just grunted.

Fia cackled. "Not bad at all. I see not all of your kind is hopeless." She shot a meaningful glance back at Harry.

"Don't mention it," Hilda said, a little tiredly. Her weathered hand rose to brush the rough wall. "Hmm. Feels no different from the rest."

Samuel rapped it with his knuckles, eliciting dull _thunks_ one would expect from solid stone. "Remarkable." He sniffed loudly, then raised a palm. "Not a hint of a breeze from the other side, no change in smell."

Bill liberated everyone from the rope, leaving them free to investigate. Along with Samuel and Piotr, he began casting diagnostic spells, while Hilda merely stared at the span of false wall with a thoughtful frown. Fia aimed a kick at it before losing interest and observing the men's spellwork with a snooty expression.

Hilda raised her tuning fork again and tapped the wall silently. "_Sieh da_!" she cried as her hand sank into the stone.

Harry rubbed his eyes. The wall had wavered for an instant, then returned to being perfectly solid again. An experimental poke of his finger only encountered damp, cold stone.

"I believe... yes," Hilda murmured, now sticking her arm through and making the wall blur slightly. "It's a matter of knowing, in your heart of hearts, that this is only an illusion."

"Simple," Piotr said, nodding. He strode forward, smacked face-first into stone, and recoiled with a yelp.

"Yet effective," Samuel remarked.

Fia broke out in laughter. "You should've seen your face! Ah, watching clueless mortals fumble about is the best entertainment one could ask for."

"You go," Piotr growled, rubbing his nose with a peeved expression.

She bared her fangs. "Watch this."

Taking a deep breath, she glared at the wall as if daring it to stop her and stepped forward. Everyone goggled as she vanished.

They waited. And waited some more.

"Reckon she got stuck on the other side," Harry said wryly. "No way would she miss the chance to come back and boast otherwise."

"Right," Bill said, "get me through. We need someone with experience to check for danger first."

Hilda linked her fingers with Bill's and slipped through. Bill extended his free hand backward as he followed her. After a moment's hesitation, Piotr grabbed onto it, but it slid out of his grip when he bumped against the shimmering wall again.

"_Blyat_!"

Samuel gave him a distracted glance before adjusting his lapels absently and stepping right through with no aid. Harry tried to follow, but bumped against hard stone and exchanged a commiserating glance with Piotr.

"Excuse me, gents," Hilda said, emerging up to her shoulders, "Billy had an idea. Confundo, Confundo."

Harry blinked, trying to recall where he had put his wallet. They must be serving treacle tart in the Great Hall right now. There was a woman's head sticking from a wall, staring at him.

"You're not a house-elf," he accused.

"_Entschuldigung_," the woman said.

A hand appeared below her head, grasped his lapels, and yanked him in. He puckered his lips as was only polite in such a situation. The world spun upside down, then righted itself. The witch's head had grown herself a body. And friends.

"Oh, hello," he said brightly. Two of the friends were red-haired, and one had funny appendages upon her head. "Are you two sisters? I always wanted to get into a broomstick closet with two redheads."

The sister with shoulder-length hair and a fang earring raised her wand. "Finite."

Harry suddenly realized he had been making kissy faces at Bill and recoiled in horror. Fia, predictably, was laughing her delectable ass off. Upon regaining his own wits, Piotr clapped Harry's shoulder in silent sympathy.

"Bill—thanks, but fuck you." Harry massaged his temples. "Can't believe that worked."

Bill chuckled. "Hey, if it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid."

"A bit redundant for a statement, but truthful enough," Samuel murmured, looking around.

Harry cast a _Lumos_, his head still spinning with disorientation. The light tore stretches of smooth stonework from the darkness: a hallway, but wider and straighter than the one they escaped. He turned around and did a double-take at a seemingly solid wall behind them.

"We can worry about getting back later," Bill said to his unspoken question. "It might be possible to disable the protections from the center of this place."

"We must be going in the right direction," Samuel said, peering ahead intently. "I'll say, look at this!"

"Samuel," Bill said, grasping him by the elbow. "We're all eager to be back on track, but do be careful."

The two took point, casting multicolored detection spells, with Hilda and Piotr following, their wands raised overhead to light the way. Harry and Fia didn't have much to do but trail leisurely behind.

It wasn't long before the Curse-Breakers paused to converse in an undertone, the light-bearers waving their wands wildly. Harry sidestepped to peek ahead. The corridor widened into what appeared to be a chamber, hidden by deep shadows.

Bill slung his rucksack off to retrieve a handful of candles, then proceeded to light them with taps of his wand and send them floating forward. Gradually, the true extent of the chamber was revealed.

"Goodness me," Samuel said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "This is a goldmine!"

"Gold?" Fia asked, standing on her tiptoes to look over Bill's shoulder. "Where?"

"In a figurative sense, dear," Hilda said, sending her an amused look. "This should be safe enough, but just in case, stick to the middle of the room while we check things out."

Fia's tail wagged as she waited for the Curse-Breakers to filter inside, and Harry had to admit to some impatience as well; after three days of monotony, any change of scenery was a welcome prospect. When he and Fia finally entered the chamber proper, the Curse-Breakers having spread out in search of traps, he couldn't help but flinch.

Arrayed along the edges of the vast circular chamber loomed wooden idols of pagan gods, their crude, fractured forms casting ominous shadows in the wavering candlelight. Before each idol stood a low stone plinth with a bowl-shaped indentation, some still holding the remnants of age-old offerings. One spot was conspicuously empty, its unfortunate inhabitant long since decayed into wooden detritus. In the middle of the chamber stood a truncated pyramid of fieldstone, its top blackened with soot. On the opposite side was a rough stone door.

"The wood is in remarkably good condition, given its age," Samuel said, sketching the contours of a long-bearded man with a broad forehead onto a notebook. "This surly fellow here is Perkūnas, no doubt. We have just stumbled upon the best surviving depiction of the old Baltic gods."

"Safe," Piotr said, lowering his wand.

"Well, I should hope so," Samuel said, not turning to look. "This was a place of worship, after all."

"Yet the way ahead is barred," Bill remarked, tapping the stone door lightly.

"This place still rejects us," Hilda said, craning her neck at a curly-haired god holding an enormous mallet atop his shoulder. "We cheated to get his far."

Bill hummed thoughtfully. "There's no hurry. Let's take a break and consider what might get that door to open for us."

For British, a break meant tea, and thus Bill quickly boiled some water on a portable brazier and laid out a teapot, mugs, milk, sugar, and a basket of assorted sandwiches. Everyone knelt around to partake, save for Samuel, who kept wandering around the chamber taking sketches and murmuring under his breath. Yet hunger eventually took the better of him too, and he joined in, cramming half a sandwich into his mouth.

"_I shink I mmph nh pff_," he stated, lifting a finger.

"Swallow, dear," Hilda chided.

Samuel made an enormous gulp and said brightly, "That's what I always tell my wife!"

An incredulous silence descended, broken by Fia's giggle. She clamped a palm over her mouth, glared at Samuel, yet couldn't help but erupt in laughter. Harry cracked a smile, more at her antics than the joke.

"At least someone appreciated it," Samuel murmured.

"Try to pick a less off-color topic next time," Hilda advised, patting him on the knee. "Now, you were saying?"

"Ah, yes." Samuel adjusted his glasses. "My first thought was to present offerings to each god depending on their domain, but then I realized that the solution might be a lot simpler. That over there is an _aukuras_—a fire altar."

Everyone's gazes followed his extended finger toward the small pyramid in the middle of the chamber.

"So we just light a fire atop?" Bill asked, rising to his feet.

"That would be the gist of it, yes." Samuel quickly finished his food and brushed the crumbs off his lap. "There is ceremony to be observed, although I can't imagine anything too complicated. Washing up before approaching and acting with respect should be enough. Would you give me a hand with that, William?"

Bill launched a stream of water from his wand. Samuel rinsed off his hands and face, then approached the altar. He sketched an awkward bow, then flourished his wand. A jet of blue fire shot out, sticking to the top of the pyramid and bathing the room in its cold azure hue.

The door didn't so much as budge.

"I should have known." Samuel scooped the blue flames into a conjured jar to hang from his belt. "An artificial fire won't do, and neither, I suspect, would conjured wood." Leaning over the altar, he blew on it, raising a cloud of soot. "I don't suppose you brought any kindling, William?"

Bill shook his head. "Sorry. Standard enchanted cook gear, as you well know."

"Oh no, the fault squarely lies with me. I should have stocked up on things like these before we delved into the barrow, but my excitement took the better of me." Samuel scratched his nose, blinking owlishly. "An experienced practitioner could duplicate even the tiniest quantity of wood, and the result should still be considered genuine. We need but a twig... or even something as simple as a wooden comb. Ladies?"

"Don't look at me," Hilda said, raking her fingers through her short hair. "These don't need much primping, and not to brag, but I'm a deft hand at cosmetic Charms."

Everyone exchanged glances. Piotr ran his hand over his bald scalp, making Harry chuckle. Bill stared pointedly at Fia until she snorted and tossed her head back.

"I don't need primitive tools to maintain my exquisite looks."

Piotr snorted. "You look like drowned rat before Hilda fix you."

Fia rounded on him. "Keep yapping and I'll fix your face, _zalupa_."

Bill hid a smile. "Alright, cool it. Save the fights for when we get out of here. Anyone have any bright ideas on that front?"

Harry cast his gaze over the plinths before the idols. "Would any of these gods have taken anything wooden as offerings?"

Everyone stared at him, then at the plinths. Most held little but grime, but there was a glint of metal atop the one before the mallet-wielding god, and what appeared to be rotting leather atop the next one.

"Good thinking, lad," Samuel said, already striding to scrutinize the offerings. "It's worth a try, even if I can't think of any offerings that would be suitable for our needs. Even Gabija, the fire spirit, was traditionally offered bread and salt... honey, water... flowers, certainly..." His voice faded to a murmur as he poked at some detritus with his wand.

They spread out, lighting their wands for better visibility. Harry suppressed a shiver as he stooped to rifle through what once might've been fruit or berries, imagining the stern idol looking at him with condemnation from above. The god hadn't been real, he told himself. Just something created by a long-dead people.

There was a clatter, and he turned to find Fia dumping an armful of crumbling wood atop the altar. Everyone's heads turned her way. She dusted off her palms and propped them on her hips proudly.

Samuel furrowed his brows. "Young lady, where did you find this?"

"That corner right there," she said, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. "Your mortals' eyesight must be feeble indeed to miss something that obvious." She aimed an open palm at the pile. "Anyway, we just need to set this on fire, right?"

Harry raised his hand. "Don't—"

"I'm not stupid," she said, rolling her eyes, "I won't use hellfire for this. _Shrrax_."

Warm, orange flames blossomed under her fingers before hurtling toward the altar. Samuel's dismayed exclamation and Hilda's warning were swallowed by a whoosh of hot air and the crackling of wood as it ignited with supernatural swiftness.

Everyone froze. A grinding of stone resounded, and their heads whipped toward the door. A gap had opened at the bottom, widening gradually as the entire slab of stone rose into the ceiling.

"See?" Fia said smugly. "And you call yourselves—"

A wolf's howl echoed somewhere in the distance. Another joined in before the first faded, then several more, growing in volume until it sounded like hundreds of wolves on a hunt. The harsh, discordant sound bounced off the walls, making the back of Harry's neck prickle. Then it faded the same way it had started, with the voices dropping gradually until only one remained.

"_Scheiße_," Hilda exclaimed, raising her wand.

Samuel dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief as he stared at the merrily crackling fire. "A major goddess is missing—Žvorūna. That debris must've been all that remained of her idol."

Piotr growled. "Stupid girl burn pagan god!" He ran to the slowly opening door and squatted to shine a light beyond.

Fia appeared even more pleased with herself. "I did? Ha! Take that, ugly gods!"

Bill trained his wand on her. "You... did this on purpose, didn't you?"

She scowled and opened her mouth, but the chorus of howls echoed again, its crescendo rattling their bones and making the idols shake as though in anger.

"Save your recriminations, Billy," Hilda said. "We have bigger things to worry about. Something's coming our way, and it doesn't sound happy."

"This isn't over." Glowering, Bill aimed at the corridor they had come from and raised his voice. "Piotr, Samuel, scout ahead! Hilda, Harry—you're with me! We'll hold the line!"

"What about me?" Fia asked, strutting in the direction the howls were coming from with unconcerned curiosity.

"_You_ try not to bollocks things up any further!" Bill waved her impatiently out of the line of fire between them and the corridor.

Fia jabbed a finger at him, her lips moving in an angry retort, but not a word could be heard through the blaring howls. The noise spiked until Harry could take it no longer and pressed his hands over his ears. The floor began to tremble as though with the steps of a giant.

Shadows stirred in the corridor, and out of them burst an enormous four-legged beast. Its nails scraped sparks from the floor as it skidded to a halt. Raising its metallic hackles, it howled like a thousand wolves; dust rained off the ceiling, the fire on the altar wavered, and most of the floating candles went out, plunging the chamber into twilight.

Harry's jaw sagged as he took an involuntary step backward. The howl diminished, and the iron wolf turned its head to consider them with an empty eye-socket.

"Incredible," Samuel exclaimed behind them.

"Focus, professor!" Piotr yelled.

The wolf's crude ears twitched, and it lunged with predatory grace. Harry reacted without thinking, a jet of turquoise light leaving his wand—but along with Bill's and Hilda's hexes, it bounced off the wolf's breast. The beast hurtled toward them unimpeded, all sharp angles and fury, but at the last moment, Fia sprang up to meet it mid-air. Her kick rebounded with an echoing _clang_, and she crashed into Hilda, but the wolf too fell backward.

Iron claws raked the floor as the beast staggered. One of its thick legs caught on the altar, scattering embers and fieldstones across the floor. The chamber darkened further as the fire went out. Stone grated on stone.

"Door close!" Piotr bellowed.

"_Hold it up_," Harry snapped at Fia.

A crimson blur shot past him, and the grating noise lessened. He pummeled the wolf with increasingly malicious curses, but they glanced off the interlocking plates that made up its hide, as did Bill's and Hilda's more exotic spells. A jet of acidulous green went on to bounce off the wall and zoom back at Hilda, melting the idol behind her into sludge. Harry's wand stilled in hesitation.

The wolf pounced. Lightning arced from Bill's wand at its airborne form, doing little but blind them, and it was only thanks to Harry's desperate Knockback Jinx that it smacked into him with its flank rather than spearing him with its dagger-like teeth.

Air left Harry's lungs as he skidded over the floor. Groaning, he pushed himself up. Bill was slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, Hilda kneeling beside to help him. Fiamette trembled as she struggled to hold up the half-closed door. Samuel's white face peered from beyond, while only Piotr's lower half was visible, his thick fingers hooked underneath the stone slab to add his strength to hers.

The wolf's head swiveled between them before centering on Bill and Hilda, its hindquarters coiling like a spring. Harry aimed his shaking wand at the idol above the pair.

"Accio."

The idol toppled, smacking the lunging beast's snout with a clang. Snarling, the wolf tore into it, scattering wood chips across the floor. Hilda used the opportunity to sling Bill's arm over her shoulder and drag him to the door.

The idol fell to the floor in two halves, and the wolf unleashed a howl that shook the chamber. Fia had collapsed to one knee, keening as the descending slab bore down on her, wings bulging under her robes. Hilda slung Bill off unceremoniously and pushed him through the shrinking gap, Samuel pulling from the other side, then aimed her wand at the advancing wolf.

"O-over here." Harry cleared his throat. "Oi!"

The wolf kept stalking toward the door. He sketched the beginning of a Blasting Curse, then thought better of it, and levitating one of the loose fieldstones, banished it at the wolf's rump. The stone smashed into the iron plates in a flare of sparks; the beast snarled, turning around with a whine of unoiled iron.

Yet a bloodcurdling scream drew its attention back to the door. Fia had crumpled to all fours while numerous hands on the other side struggled to keep the stone slab from crushing her. Sparks erupted from under the beast's claws as it raced toward her.

"_Go_!" Harry yelled, reinforcing the order with a Banishing Charm.

He met Fia's wide eyes an instant before the spell connected and shoved her through, the door slamming shut in a plume of dust. A second crash followed as the wolf smashed into the stone. The beast lurched back, bent iron plates scraping against each other, and slowly faced Harry. Regarding him with empty eyes, it threw its head back and howled.

* * *

The thick stone muffled the howl the way the illusionary wall hadn't, but everyone still cast wary glances at the closed door. Hilda propped Bill against a wall, and Piotr proceeded to dress his scalp wound and feed him a potion, while Samuel tapped the door with his wand.

Fia rose unsteadily to her feet and staggered up to the door. "You... fool." Rearing back her arm, she punched. The impact was resounding, but when she recoiled with a pained cry, there was no mark on the stone save a bloody imprint of her knuckles.

"Physical invulnerability," Samuel noted before resuming his work.

Fia panted for air and cradled her hand as she watched him wave his wand.

Hilda walked up and laid a palm on her shoulder. "If anyone can crack these protections, it's Sammy."

Bill braced himself against the wall to stand and joined them. Despite the fresh bandage on his head, his wand moved steadily as it traced shapes over the doorway. Muffled crashes from the other side reached their ears, but they seemed to be dwindling.

"Tried Transfiguration yet?"

"Of course I tried, William—_tried_ being the key word. Look at the matrix here..." A tangle of multicolored lines lit up at Samuel's gesture.

"_Shit_."

"Weaved into the stone itself." Samuel shook his head. "Impossible to disenchant in any reasonable timeframe."

Bill clenched his jaw. "Brute force?"

"I would suggest experimenting with something light, given the earlier result."

Bill aimed at an angle. "Flipendo."

The jinx bounced off the door and went on to ping-pong along the walls, making Piotr duck and swear, until fizzling out. Bill exchanged a glance with Samuel, and his shoulders slumped.

Piotr folded his arms. "This why taking newbie dangerous."

"If it weren't for that young man, we wouldn't have made it through the door," Hilda said, shaking her head.

"_Damn it_." Bill kicked at the door. "We ought to be the experienced ones, the smart ones, the ones who protect _him_! What the hell was that thing, Samuel? Even Egyptian tomb guardians aren't that resistant to magic!"

"Something from a city-founding myth," Samuel said softly, gazing into space. "Perhaps this iron wolf is what gave rise to the legend, or perhaps the builders of this place were inspired by the legend to construct it. An incredible discovery either way."

Bill growled and grabbed him by the lapels, but when Samuel merely raised his eyebrows, his hands lost strength. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Sorry. I just... There must be _something_ we can do."

"We could rush ahead in hopes we come across an exit or a means to disable the protections," Samuel said.

"No," Bill said firmly. "I'm not getting the rest of my team killed by running head-first into a trap."

Hilda nodded. "Quite right. Had you suggested that I would've knocked you out myself." Her lined face didn't betray much emotion, but the knuckles of the fingers gripping her stubby wand were white.

"Then I see no other option," Samuel said. "Breaking through this door would take hours at best—days, more likely—and by that time Mr. Potter will have... well."

There was a snort. Bill turned to where Piotr was redoing the bandages on Fia's hands, and his eyes narrowed. "Get away from her."

Piotr gave him a questioning glance but stepped aside.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Bill said, lifting his wand. "Triggering the defenses. Separating him from us. From _you_."

Samuel looked from him to Fia with befuddlement, while Piotr slowly aimed his own wand at her.

Fia sneered. "And why would I do that, you blithering cretin?"

"Simple. If he perishes, you'll be... loose."

At those words, even Hilda straightened up and fingered her wand, only Samuel blinking confusedly at the proceedings.

Fia tossed her head back and laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "Whatever scraps of knowledge you've gleaned from your dusty scrolls clearly isn't enough. True, we steal, we deceive, and we stab one another in the back to achieve our goals, but..." She shook her head. "You don't truly understand us."

"Then help me understand," Bill snarled, light pooling at the tip of his wand.

Fia's eyes flashed with an inner fire. "I refuse to waste my breath."

Ignoring their outstretched wands, she walked up to the door and took a deep breath. Before anyone could utter a word, she punched hard at the wall beside it. With a crack, a hairline fracture spread through the rock. She punched again. And again.

"What are you doing?" Bill asked.

"If you can't. Open the door. You make. A new one." Wet squelches now accompanied the smacks of her fists, but she didn't slow down. "Stupid. Mortals."

"You're... you're just pretending to care," Bill said, but his wand wavered.

She didn't say a word, whimpering with every hit. Blood soaked her bandages and dripped to the floor. Thin cracks expanded through the stone, but not a single fragment had crumbled off yet.

"Enough. Enough, dear." Hilda hugged her from behind, pushing her hands down. "Even if we tear down the wall..."

"Don't lump my master with you lot," she panted, wriggling feebly against her hold. "A weakling wouldn't have been able to subjugate me."

Hilda drew back, sympathy shining in her eyes. "Let us take over. It'll take time, but we'll get through, I swear." She swiveled her head. "Won't we, gents?"

"I... we owe it to Harry to try if nothing else." Bill sighed, lowered his wand, then swung off his rucksack. "At least the wall's not immune to damage... If we keep chipping away at it, we're bound to break through eventually."

"Simple solution best," Piotr said sagely. "Start think how fight _volk_ also."

Bill submerged in his rucksack up to the waist before surfacing with a small hammer. "This is the best I've got. Engorgio." He yelped as it grew to the size of a sledgehammer, and the massive head slammed to the floor.

"Eat more meat, Weasley." Plucking the hammer out of his hands, Piotr hefted it up with a grunt and swung at the wall. A puff of dust rose, and a sliver of rock fell to the floor.

Bill backed away from the swinging hammerhead. "We'll have to conjure anything else, and I'm no good at that, I'm afraid."

"I believe I can help." Samuel brandished his wand. "Extodolabrus! My goodness, that's not right... Was it Exoriodolabrus? It's been so long since I used this one..."

Hilda tapped him on the shoulder. "Could you conjure me a hardwood log, Sammy?"

He blinked at her. "A small one, certainly, if you're not fussy about the type."

She rolled up her sleeves. "Please do. I'll put on the finishing touches myself."

"Forgive me for asking, but what good will a log be in this situation?" Samuel flourished his wand even as he spoke.

"I'm making something." Her lips stretched into a smile. "A battering ram."

* * *

Harry wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and glared at the iron wolf. It circled the chamber, its paws landing on the floor with deceptive placidity, until its legs flexed to propel it toward him. Jabbing his wand sideways, he brought down one of the few remaining idols, and the aged wood met the beast in an explosion of splinters.

Shielding his face, he backtracked as the beast shook itself off, none the worse for the wear except minor dents in its armor. No spell he had thrown had as much as scratched its hide, but physical attacks at least kept it away. Binding it in chains might've worked, but alas, he hadn't inherited his father's talent for transfiguration.

Before the beast could pounce, he jabbed his wand at the stones on the floor and banished them one by one, gritting his teeth in frustration as they clanged off the iron plates. A gap between them, too small to hit while the wolf was on the move, drew his eye. Perhaps, if he could get closer...

Glancing around, he tossed the last two standing idols at the beast, the impacts knocking it to the opposite side of the chamber. While it tore the wood apart in animalistic rage, he slipped his robes off and wound them around his right hand, transferring his wand to his left.

"Duro," he said, pointing at the robes.

His right arm sagged under the weight of what was now cold, hard stone. Taking a deep breath, he visualized a candle flame within himself, burning brighter and brighter. Heat infused his limbs, chasing away fatigue and pain, and his lips curled into a violent snarl. With practiced ease, he sought out the Occlumentic tranquility to counterbalance the battle-lust.

The wolf's claws scraped the floor as it freed itself from the rubble. Harry raised his right hand.

"Bring it on, tin can."

With a cacophonous growl, the wolf barreled at him. He planted his feet and met it head-on, shoving his stone-encased hand at its snarling jaws. Dagger-like teeth crunched down, pulverizing the stone, as the impact drove Harry backward. His knees buckled from strain, and he sank to the floor. Looming over him, the wolf bit down, and he cried out as the daggers penetrated his flesh.

Forcing his teary gaze away from its jaws, Harry thrust his wand into the gap between the bent plates of its foreleg. "Confringo!"

The blast blew them apart, Harry's back slamming into the wall while the wolf skidded backward. His ears rang, and something hot trickled down the back of his neck. Blinking through red afterimages, he fumbled for the wand that the explosion had wrenched out of his fingers. It was nowhere in sight.

Metal jangled as the wolf rose on its three legs, only a mangled stump remaining of the fourth. A cacophony of snarls erupted from its muzzle as it limped closer, blood dripping from its teeth.

Despite the fear clenching his heart, Harry's lips curled into a sneer. He slammed his right hand at the wall behind, breaking off the remaining stone, and stooped to pick up an arm of a broken idol. The candle flame inside him burgeoned into a roaring blaze, and the dim chamber suddenly was brighter to his eyes.

The wolf tossed its head back and howled before pouncing in an ungainly leap. His improvised club exploded into splinters upon its breast, blowing it backward. His muscles burned, imbued with more power than he had ever dared draw upon, but he ignored the pain, discarding the broken weapon in favor of another one. The wolf attacked again.

Charging iron met wood and was repelled, once more leaving him weaponless. His gaze darted around before homing in on the wolf's severed limb: a hollow pillar of iron, rigid and lifeless, tapering into sharp claws. Hearing iron scrape the floor, he rolled out of the beast's way and sprang toward the limb. Gripping its thicker end, he lunged and impaled the wolf above the joint of its hind leg.

The wolf yowled and snapped at him, but its jaws closed on air as its hind leg gave with a screech. Grabbing onto its flank with one hand, Harry used the other to drive the severed limb deeper.

The wolf thrashed, throwing him to the floor on his back. It hobbled toward him with ferocious persistence, iron plates breaking off around the ruined joint. Harry tried to kick himself out of the way, but the wolf pinned him, its maw closing over his throat.

His hands shot up to hold it back, razor-sharp incisors slicing them before his fingers found a safer spot. His muscles trembled. The wolf bore down, closing its jaws another inch and bringing its teeth toward his neck. A whimper escaped his throat as he sought any reserves of strength and came up empty.

He'd been cocky. A lucky victory over a demoness and a smidgen of power he acquired left him feeling invulnerable. Yet look at him—about to die to a guardian protecting gods long-forgotten. After coming across his corpse, she would no doubt mock him for his weakness.

The daggers grazed his flesh, and a chorus of growls resonated in the wolf's bowels as though trumpeting its impending victory. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. A responding growl rumbled in his chest as something primal rose within him. Heedless of the blades slashing his fingers, he tightened his grip on the jaws and _pulled_, his muscles bursting with a strength they were not built to handle.

The wolf's growl cut off and it drew back. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry wrapped his legs around its neck. It shook its head, but he held on fast. _Smash_. His vision grew hazy as he was slammed into the floor, but he only clung on tighter. Any measure of Occlumentic rationality was long lost, and only single-minded determination remained. _Smash_. Blood poured over his right eye. Snarling, he bent forward and wrenched the jaws apart with all he had. Through the ringing in his skull, he heard a screech of iron. The wolf convulsed. _Smash_.

He slipped off onto the floor, sinking and sinking even though he lay atop cool stone. The iron wolf swayed above him, its mangled jaws consuming his vision. Then there was only darkness.


	11. Tomb Raiding, Part Five

_Boom_.

_Boom_.

_Boom._

Harry cracked open one eye, the other glued shut, and saw nothing but black. His nose was clogged, and his mouth tasted of copper. He was very cold.

So he was alive.

Why was that strange, again?

_Boom_, _rattle_.

He blinked. His brain felt too large for his skull. He tried to move. His fingers twitched, but he couldn't feel his legs.

There was light, just a little, then voices.

"_Mein Gott_. It's not moving."

"Look at that damage." A low whistle. "How in the name of Merlin..."

A snort. "Told you."

"I see blood. Quick, widen the hole—"

Pebbles clattered onto the floor. There were racing footsteps, and then Fia was kneeling at his side and lifting his head into her lap. Her violet eyes peered at him with concern.

"You..." His lips cracked painfully in a grin. "Came back... for me."

"_Hmph_. This is but a passing interest in an admittedly remarkable example of your pathetic species." Her gaze roved over him as she spoke.

"He's... he's alive! Wingardium Leviosa." Metal groaned, and Harry felt something shift. "Blast it, this thing must weigh a ton—help me out!"

Other voices echoed the incantation, and Harry gasped as an immeasurable weight slid off his lower half. His head spun in a sudden bout of dizziness, his heart fluttering. Bright lights shone at his face, making him squint his sole functioning eye.

He drifted in and out of consciousness as strong hands peeled off his blood-soaked clothes and poured a foul-smelling liquid over his wounds. Then he was in a well-lit tent, and Piotr was holding a vial to his lips. He swallowed spasmodically, too exhausted to grimace at the sickly-sweet taste of Blood Replenisher. Piotr flourished his wand over his legs, swore, flourished it again. Then came another potion, and another. Someone swaddled him in a blanket. Throughout it all, Fia hovered nearby, observing.

"Done," Piotr said tiredly. His large hand patted Harry's shoulder. "He hurt bad, but he live."

Harry tried to protest that he felt _wonderful_, warm and comfortable and not the slightest bit in pain, but overtaken by sudden drowsiness, he couldn't seem to form the words. Meeting Fia's keen gaze, he smiled—she averted her gaze, looking oddly uncomfortable—before sleep claimed him.

* * *

Harry awoke from the sound of clinking dishes. His gaze darted around, taking in a white privacy screen partitioning the couch he lay on from the rest of the tent. A smell of sandalwood tickled his nose, and he turned his head to find Fia snoozing at his side, dressed in kitty-print pajamas.

The bandages on her arms appeared fresh, thicker around her knuckles and soaked through with a salve. She had appropriated most of his blanket, but her body emanated enough heat so that he didn't feel cold despite his state of undress. Glancing down, he discovered a bandage across his chest, and another when he raised his hand.

His stomach gurgled. Outside, the clinking of utensils and the muted hum of voices went on. He rose gingerly to a seated position, groaning as his sore muscles protested the movement.

Fia's ears twitched and her eyes flew open. She knelt up, took him by the shoulders, and looked him over. "Are you well? Have your wounds healed yet?" As if catching herself, she looked away and smoothed down her pajama top. "Really, you mortals get banged up so easily. Do you need anything?"

He licked his parched lips. "Water. Food."

She smiled widely, sprang to her feet, and shoved aside the screen. "Oi, minions! My master requires sustenance!"

A stunned silence fell as Bill, Piotr, Hilda, and Samuel turned to goggle. Everyone began speaking at once. Upon proving he could stand on his own power, Harry was gently ushered into a chair that everyone crowded around.

"It's good to see you up and about, mate," Bill said, looking immensely relieved.

Hilda placed a bowl of porridge before him. "Eat up, dear."

"You stupid wizard." Piotr clapped his shoulder. "But brave. Good you come with us."

"Indubitably," Samuel said.

Grinning, Harry pulled the steaming bowl closer, picked up a spoon, and dug in. He hadn't been lying: he was _ravenous_. As he reached toward a mug of tea with his left hand, he froze. A third of his ring finger was missing, ending in a stump above the first joint.

Piotr grunted apologetically. "That bit crushed like _farsh_. Can't reattach."

"Oh." Harry lifted his hand and stared. How peculiar. He had been missing a part of himself and hadn't even noticed.

"If you jerk with other hand, not problem, yes?"

"Piotr, really." Hilda slapped his upper arm.

Piotr opened his mouth, but Harry laughed, interrupting whatever he was going to say. "It's fine. A reminder not to get overconfident in the future." Hooking his remaining fingers around the handle, he brought the cup to his lips.

"Excuse me, young man, but I've been burning with curiosity ever since yesterday. However did you manage to defeat the iron wolf?" Heedless of Hilda's glare, Samuel peered owlishly at Harry. "Not that I doubt your skill with a wand, but it's precisely because wands weren't doing us much good that has me contemplating what method you employed. My idea—regrettably belated—was to transfigure a construct of my own, but we saw nothing to suggest that was the approach you took. Why, it almost looked like you fought with your bare hands!"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I have my ways."

Bill's eyes narrowed at Fia. Whatever was going through his mind was probably not too far off the mark: Harry had ingested her blood in a ritual so he could channel a smidgen of demonic magic. Never hellfire, not with his Peverell heritage, but he could strengthen his body to the point where he punched harder than Dudley the boxing champion. He grinned at the memory of rupturing the punching bag in the gym Dudley frequented.

Samuel threw up his hands. "Goodness, do you youngsters _have_ to act so mysterious all the time? The puzzle will keep me awake all night."

"We'll find you something else to puzzle over," Hilda said. "The end is near, I feel it in my bones."

Harry swallowed a mouthful of porridge. "It is?"

Bill answered, "There was light at the end of the corridor that looked natural, even though my watch said it was midnight. Might be the center of this place, might be a second exit. We didn't risk scouting further and ended up setting up camp in the idol chamber."

He nodded. "Shall we check it out today?"

Bill exchanged a look with Piotr, who shrugged. "You sure you're up for it?"

Furrowing his brows, he rolled his shoulders. "I'm sore all over, but if there won't be another iron wolf to fight, I'm good to go."

Piotr chuckled. "And yesterday I say you sleep for two days."

"Youth," Hilda said wistfully. "Back in my day, I could dismantle half the wards on a tomb and still have enough left in me to take on a horde of Inferi."

"No such thing as an old Curse-Breaker," Bill said, grinning. "We just get tougher and smarter. Couldn't have gotten this far without you, Hilda."

She batted her lashes at him. "You're a charmer, Billy. Were I two decades younger..."

Harry laughed with the rest, relishing the companionship.

The mood was upbeat as they finished breakfast and prepared to delve deeper into the dungeon. Harry ducked into the bathroom to wash up, then struggled to thread his arms through the sleeves of a new shirt until Fia barged in and helped, not missing the opportunity to make fun of his feeble constitution.

When he exited the tent at the heels of the Curse-Breakers, he was greeted by the sight of repaired idols towering around the chamber and the altar standing in its middle. Only the heap of dead iron yards away remained a silent testament to yesterday's battle. The interlocking plates were rife with scratches and dents, gleaming dully in wand-light.

Fia kicked at the wolf's rump, and a gong-like noise echoed throughout the chamber. "I can't believe something this pathetic nearly ended you. Your fangs have grown dull during this year of peace."

"I didn't see you doing so well either."

Fia huffed. "It would've taken me but a minute to turn this construct into scrap." She gave him a hesitant glance. "Yet you sent me to safety... why?"

"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Don't look too deeply into it. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision."

"It was stupid," she said, averting her gaze. "Had you gotten yourself killed, I would've found a way to call your soul back just so I could mock your idiocy."

He frowned. "Hey, I handled myself just fine."

"That would sound more convincing if you hadn't painted half the room in your blood." She pursed her lips, still not looking at him. "But yes... I'll admit it was a worthy victory."

He studied her profile, her lightly flushed cheeks, while she seemed to take a great interest in the wolf. At length, he turned to watch the Curse-Breakers squeeze themselves through a hole beside the door, pebbles crunching under their feet. Shadows danced on the ceilings as their wand-lights went through one by one.

Piotr glanced back and motioned them to follow. Harry trudged up, eyeing the hole with interest. The wall was at least a foot thick, the edges jagged, the comprising stones broken into pieces rather than ripped out whole.

"What was it like after we were separated?" he asked, squeezing through.

Behind him, Fia made a noise of contempt. "The usual: mortals yapping uselessly until I set them straight. They wouldn't have gotten anywhere if it weren't for me."

Grinning wryly, he decided not to point out that if it weren't for her, they wouldn't have run afoul of the dungeon's guardian in the first place. "Thanks, I guess. Didn't know you cared."

"Like I said yesterday," she said, dusting her robes off, "this is but a passing interest. Don't get too full of yourself."

"Yeah, yeah." As Bill and Samuel took point and began creeping along the straight hallway, Harry's eyes lingered on a thick log capped with steel that was bent badly out of shape. "Kastellbrecher," he murmured, looking up.

Hilda caught his eye and winked. He grinned in response until Fia clung to his arm with enough force to make his bruises hurt. He winced but let it slide.

They strolled onward at a leisurely pace while the Curse-Breakers made sure the way ahead was clear. It wasn't long before their surroundings began growing brighter.

Standing on his tiptoes, Harry squinted at the warm light ahead, the Curse-Breakers' figures casting long shadows on the floor. A slight breeze tickled his face, carrying scents of wildflowers. Hilda and Piotr extinguished their wands. Everyone's steps quickened as what looked like the exit loomed closer.

"Blimey," Bill said, stepping into the light, "it's _enormous_."

Samuel chuckled thinly. "Still think space expansion was beyond them, eh, William?"

"Guess I owe Piotr that Galleon."

A silence fell until Fia tiptoed closer and whinged, "Hurry up!" She seemed about to shove the nearest back onward before realizing it belonged to Samuel and shrinking away.

"Right," Bill said. "Right... it should be safe. Come on through."

The remaining Curse-Breakers filtered out of the corridor, clearing the path for Fia and Harry. He stepped into the light, his feet leaving hard stone and sinking into grass—real, green grass—and shaded his eyes to look around.

A lush meadow sprinkled with wildflowers stretched before them. It was bisected by a burbling stream and had a cluster of thick oaks looming at its center. The sunlight beating down on him was emitted by a ball of fire directly at the top of the dome of the sky overhead. Following the stream with his gaze, he saw it disappear into a hole in the dome not too far away. He rubbed his eyes as the realization set in.

"The place is artificial," he murmured.

Fia stooped to pluck a stalk of grass and nibbled on the end. "Seems real enough."

"Oh, it's real alright," Samuel said, gazing around in awe. "This is no mere burial mound... It's the last sanctuary of a dying religion."

"That's all fine and good, but where's the gold?" she asked grumpily. "Precious jewels, powerful artifacts, weapons?"

Piotr jabbed a thumb back the way they came. "There was powerful weapon. Your boyfriend break it."

"As is only proper when a dumb beast bears its fangs at you." Her tone was proud, as if she had been the one to defeat the wolf.

"Don't get discouraged, dear," Hilda said. "If this is a secret temple, there should be more than grass and trees. Places like this always hold surprises."

"Often unwelcome ones, unfortunately." Bill waved his wand in a broad arc, and a wave of yellowish energy burst out, ruffling the grass as it extended in every direction. He put his hand to his ear. "No pings."

"Let's us proceed, then," Samuel said, rubbing his hands. "A surviving sacred grove is a rare enough sight in the region. To find one underground is unheard of! I'll be the envy of my colleagues across the continent."

"Don't be too hasty," Bill said, but he too was already drifting toward the copse of oaks. "Too many Curse-Breakers perish in the last leg of the expedition because they get complacent."

"I believe all of us here know that, Billy," Hilda said gently.

Bill's cheeks reddened a bit. "The warning's mostly meant for our young employer and his... companion." He glanced back at Harry and Fia. "Don't touch anything without our approval. _Please_."

Fia glowered and opened her mouth, but Harry squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, Bill. I'll be keeping a tight rein on her."

Her frown was chased away by a toothy grin. "Why, master," she purred into his ear, "just how do you plan on doing that?"

He gave her a stony stare. "Down, girl. I'm still recovering."

"Oh? I watched Big-Nose treat you, and I don't remember any _important_ parts being injured." Her palm slid up his thigh before cupping his crotch.

He shivered, his eyes darting around to make sure the others weren't watching, then seized her wrist. When she made to pull back, he grasped her horn and yanked her head back. His muscles ached, but the widening of her eyes and the parting of her lips to draw in a sharp breath were worth it.

"Watch it," he growled, "or I just might make the reining-in literal."

Her fang grazed her lower lip, her cheeks coloring. "Why, if that's how you want to play, I'm up for it any time. Just borrow some rope from the ginger."

Shaking his head ruefully, he let go. "You'll be the death of me."

"Certainly, if you grow complacent." Her eyes sparkled. "If you're tired of being on your guard, you're always welcome to release me from your service."

"Keep dreaming." He smacked her arse, making her squeal and rub it. Ahead, Piotr glanced over his shoulder at the noise. Harry waved him on and hastened to catch up.

They walked across the virgin grass craning their necks at the curve of the dome and the nearing trees. The oaks' trunks were stocky and heavy with branches, the dense foliage providing welcome shade from the manufactured sunlight.

A carpet of dead leaves replaced the grass under their feet, and the gurgle of the stream faded as did the barely-there breeze. No one spoke, their steps slowing as they entered the grove proper.

The oaks were arrayed in three vast concentric circles around a small clearing. At its center, the artificial sun shone down onto another fieldstone altar that burned with a smokeless, barely visible fire. A rectangular plinth stood nearby, draped over with a fraying brown cloth, atop which lay a set of white robes and a long, gnarled staff with a hooked end.

Samuel gasped. "Oh, Hilda, you were more right than you know. Unless I'm much mistaken, that over there is the regalia of the last _Kriwe-Kriwajto_—the high-priest of the Baltic pagans. This would make this place _Romuva_, their legendary temple."

Fia's nose wrinkled. "But where's the treasure?"

"Not all treasure is gold," Bill said. "But I confess, this does seem a little underwhelming."

"_Underwhelming_?" Samuel cried, adjusting his glasses. "To a layman, perhaps. Do you truly feel nothing standing here, before the very centerpiece of an archaic religion? Something the ancestors of the locals secreted away centuries ago in hopes a successor would appear one day to resurrect their faith?"

"A wooden stick," Fia murmured to Harry. "_That's_ what finally gets him to show emotion? What an incomprehensible creature."

"You're right, Samuel, of course," Bill said, raising his palms. "I'm just not as familiar with the lore of the region as you are. Do you think it's safe to approach?"

The Curse-Breakers conferred, occasionally casting a detection spell, until Bill, as the leader of the team, was chosen to go first. Wand at his side, he crept toward the plinth, the others watching with bated breath. About a dozen steps away, he halted, shook his head, and took another step. Then, doing an about-face, he strolled back and stooped over the rucksack he had left behind.

The others exchanged befuddled glances.

"Billy?" Hilda asked tentatively.

"I just realized I could really use a cup of coffee," Bill said, rummaging inside.

Piotr raised his eyebrows. "_Now_?"

"Yeah, does anyone else fancy a..." Bill stopped and furrowed his brows. "Huh. I'm not sure what came over me."

"While you figure it out, William, shall I inspect the artifacts?" Samuel said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Receiving no objections, he strolled ahead, but came to a halt midway, murmured under his breath, and retreated. "Just in case, I should probably wash my hands first. A sign of respect, you know. Wouldn't want to arouse the anger of another guardian, if there is one."

Hilda and Piotr exchanged knowing grins. She looked like she was about to speak, but at his gesture, held her tongue. Piotr watched with amusement as Samuel washed up before retracing his steps and pivoting around at the same exact spot.

Piotr chortled. "Ward screw your brain."

"What? No, I only recalled I had to perform a—" Samuel blinked, glanced over his shoulder at the plinth, and tittered. "Oh, that's clever, very clever. I didn't even notice, although I suppose that's the entire point. Only a faithful person of the purest intentions could approach unimpeded, I imagine."

"Don't suppose a Summoning Charm would work?" Bill said, waving his wand. The robes and the staff didn't budge. "When does it ever? Let's see, then... Samuel, assist me?"

Bill's wand swished like a conductor's baton, sending out translucent waves of energy that gradually dissipated in the air. A fraction of the ethereal light lingered on the fieldstones that made up the plinth, and some glowing motes stuck to the ground below, forming a pattern like iron shavings under a magnet. Before they faded, Samuel sketched out the ward's boundary in green paint.

Bill sighed, lowering his wand. "Much like before, the ward's anchored into the stones. We'd have to destroy or dismantle them at the very least."

"Out of the question," Samuel said indignantly. "We've wrought enough destruction in this place of worship already."

Fia made a derisive noise, and Harry had to admit to a bit of irritation himself. It had been self-defense, after all.

Bill tapped his wand against his palm. "Well, the only other way I see is animating a mindless construct—and there might be hidden protections against that—or getting through on sheer willpower." He perked up, no doubt eager to watch others make fools of themselves like he had. "Any takers?"

"Give me a minute." Hilda sat cross-legged with a groan. "My Occlumency's not too shabby. Perhaps I can manage to get into a mindset that will trick the wards into allowing me passage."

"By the Nine Circles, this is painful to watch," Fia scoffed. "How weak-willed can you humans be? I'll go fetch the stupid stick so we can get out of this wretched place already."

Bill exchanged a long glance with Samuel, shrugged, and gestured at the plinth. "Be my guest."

"Watch and learn." Fia tossed her hair back and strutted past him, her tail arched proudly. She didn't stop after crossing the glowing outline on the ground, but just when it looked like she would get through, she shuddered and turned about.

"It's just messing with your head!" Harry yelled, waving her on. "Keep going!"

"Don't be stupid," she retorted, prancing back. Her eyes were glazed over. "Mortal magics won't affect a being of my caliber. I just have an itch that _really_ needs to be scratched; the stupid stick can wait."

The others watched incredulously as she strode up to Harry and pulled him into a deep kiss. Her bandaged hand fumbled with the buckle of his belt without much success before her tail whipped around to slip into his trousers.

He yelped, grasped her shoulders, and shook her lightly. "Oi, snap out of it!"

She stiffened, then slowly turned to survey the others. Bill, Piotr, and Samuel were looking on with varying degrees of amusement, and even Hilda cracked open one eye from her seat on the ground, a small smile playing on her lips. Fia's hands trembled.

"_Xy-xyrrhes_..." she said, forming a sphere with her fingers.

"Fia?" Harry pressed her arms to her sides. "C'mon, don't be stupid."

She struggled against his grip, her face beet-red. "Let me kill them! We can have the reward for ourselves, and tell everyone they perished here." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't worry, I won't leave witnesses."

"Now, that's not very sporting of you, young lady," Samuel said. "I understand that you're new to the business, but a Curse-Breaker who backstabs her team won't get many job opportunities."

"She was just joking," Harry assured, still holding her hands down. He lowered his voice to speak into her ear. "Either stop this, or I'll make you..." Straightening up in a flash of inspiration, he stared at the plinth.

Fia slipped out of his grip and threw her arms up. "Hah! Despair, mortals, for the time of reckoning has come!" Hellfire swirled in her palms, causing her bandages to smolder.

"I might have an idea," Harry said, casually sticking his finger into the black fireball.

Fia glowered as it fizzled out. "_Hey_!"

"Let's—let's hear it, then," Bill said, eyeing her nervously. He had retreated several steps and trained his wand on her.

Harry gave his fuming servant a speculative look. After getting her injured the last time, he was squeamish of putting her at risk again. "May I order you?"

She appeared to lose her steam. "What are you on about?"

"I want to test something. Mind if I give you a command?"

She gaped at him before huffing and folding her arms. "You may not."

"What?" He looked up to find Bill observing them with undisguised curiosity and lowered his voice. "Why not?"

"Because you're an idiot," she said.

He scowled. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm going to do it anyway."

She laughed in his face. "Then you should've done that from the beginning." Her nail poked him hard in the forehead. "Are you my master or not?"

He shook his head, unable to comprehend her train of thought. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand her, she surprised him again. "Right. I want you to approach the plinth and wait for us there." He took a breath and narrowed his eyes. "_Go_."

She whirled around and stalked toward her destination. When she reached Piotr, who happened to be standing between her and the plinth, she raised her hand as if to swat him aside, and the man hastened out of her way with a muttered oath. A shiver went up her tail as she crossed the ward line, but she continued onward until coming to a halt before the plinth.

"Remarkable," Samuel breathed. "What remarkable mental resilience, young lady!"

Hilda's eyes fluttered open, and she accepted Piotr's hand to help her up. "She actually did it? Goodness, I'm getting old."

Fia jerked as though waking up from sleepwalking and turned to meet their impressed stares. "Of—of course! I told you these magics were nothing to me!"

Harry snorted as he watched her preen under the attention. Might as well let her enjoy the moment.

Bill came up to clap him on the shoulder. "A tight leash, huh?" he said in an undertone. "A bit unorthodox, but nicely done."

"If it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid, right?" Harry said, grinning. He raised his voice. "Oi, pull me in!"

Ignoring the alarmed exclamations, he raced toward Fia. As he entered the wards, his mind went blank, and he pivoted on one foot, overtaken by a burning need to relieve himself behind one of the oaks—but before he could make good on it, Fia reeled him in by the collar.

"Could've been more gentle," he choked out, rubbing his neck. He waved at the rest of the group. "Come on through!"

One by one, they mimicked him, and in short order, assembled around the plinth. Before them lay the carved wooden staff, untouched by age, white robes of coarse linen, and an ornate brass brooch. A vague sense of dread overtook Harry as he regarded the regalia.

"Should we, I dunno, should we disturb it?" he asked, gulping.

Fia snorted. "Bah. The dead need no trinkets, and I sense power here. Repugnant, foreign, but power nevertheless."

"Don't worry, mate," Bill said, setting down his rucksack to retrieve several sacks. "The Belarusian government wants everything preserved. Whether they put it in a museum or hand it over to their researchers to study is no longer our worry. Would you like to do the honors?"

Harry shrugged, forgoing the robes to stretch his hand toward the staff. Goosebumps erupted on his arm as if from static, and when his fingers brushed the smooth wood, it jolted him painfully. He drew back and hid his hand under his armpit as he stared at the staff. It felt... how had Fia put it? _Displeased at his presence_.

He forced himself to smile. "It feels wrong for me to take it. You guys did all the work."

"Don't sell yourself short, dear," Hilda said, while Piotr clapped his shoulder. "But if you're certain, I'd be happy to take your place. You folks don't mind, do you?"

Yet as she looked around for approval, Samuel's hand was already extending toward the staff. His fingers wrapped around it, not a sign of discomfort on his awed face as he hefted it up. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"I am holding in my hands a _krivūlė_, the ceremonial staff of the pagan high-priest himself," Samuel said reverently, raising its hooked end toward the sky. "Back in the day, it would rally all the faithful of the region for whatever purpose suited them."

"Sound important," Piotr remarked.

"All the nearby countries will want it," Hilda mused. "If we're lucky, there'll be a bidding war."

Fia broke into a smile. "Well, if your kind are stupid enough to pay for this rubbish, who am I to stop them?" She stared into space, no doubt already seeing all the snacks and clothes her share would buy.

Bill helped Samuel wrap the staff in a cloth before depositing it into an expanded sack. "We'll celebrate once we're out of here and our efforts are paid for, but I do believe the run was a success. It's been an honor, ladies and gentlemen."

As the Curse-Breaker cheered, Harry examined his reddened fingertips before sticking his hand down his pocket. He watched Fia puff out her chest proudly as Hilda and Samuel heaped praise upon her, dark thoughts churning in his head.


	12. Angel, Part One

Harry carefully rolled up an ancient scroll and laid it atop a growing pile on his desk. Sighing, he reclined in his armchair and rubbed his eyes. Investigating the history of the Peverells had proven more difficult than expected. Fables, hearsay, and anecdotes were abound, but there were precious few facts, especially relating to the whole demon-hunting business. It was as if the records had been expunged over the centuries.

Out of nowhere, a wave of dread swept over him. He sprang to his feet, his wand jumping into his fingers, and cast his gaze about. Try as he might to make sense of the feeling of impending danger, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet with every tick of the grandfather clock, his anxiety built. Striding out of the study, he allowed himself to be led to its source.

His legs carried him to the room he had magnanimously allotted for Fia's use. He raised his knuckles to knock, then changed his mind and gripped the doorknob, wand at the ready. Yanking the door open, he leapt inside.

Hot, sulfur-saturated air washed over him. A Quaffle-sized rift hovered above the floor, expanding ever so slowly. Fia circled it, peering through the haze to the other side. An open bag of spicy crisps and a magazine lay forgotten on her bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked. When she rolled her eyes at him, he amended, "What's happening?"

"We're getting a visitor," she said in a tone that suggested he was stupid for asking. "Well, _I_ am."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. Opening a portal without a summons or some kind of an anchor on this side is burdensome to everyone but the strongest of us." She eyed the rip in space and nodded to herself. "It can't be anyone above a president. I'm letting them through. _Darart shkleist_."

His belated warning was drowned out by a howl of sweltering wind. The portal ballooned, revealing a burning landscape. A dark-skinned, long-nailed hand emerged from the other side and groped around; Fia squealed in delight, grabbed on with both of hers, and tugged. The rift disgorged a winged demoness, who crashed into Fia knocking them both down, before squelching shut.

"Nuri!" Fia exclaimed. "I haven't seen you since you were summoned by that decrepit warlock in Brazil. Did you end up nabbing his soul?"

"Yes," the visitor said in a deep, husky voice. "Mother was ever so proud." Extricating herself from Fia's embrace, she stood and effortlessly helped her up. She was stockier and curvier, her skin dark as chocolate, and her purple hair short and frizzy around her curled horns.

"I'll bet she was! Look at you, barely a century old and already hoodwinking mortals like the best of us." Fia hugged her and nuzzled her cheek before drawing back. "How are things back home? Are the imps properly feeding my hellhound? Is father still warring with that featherbrain Stolas?"

"Yes, our legions are gaining ground," Nuri said absently as her yellowish eyes looked Fia over. "Praise the Prince of Darkness you're whole. When the portal wouldn't open, I feared the worst."

Fia waved dismissively. "Probably just the mortal magics around this place interfering."

"Clearly not interfering enough," Harry muttered. He would have to look into fixing that at the earliest opportunity.

Nuri's eyes narrowed at him, and she flapped her wings once. "This human speaks out of turn. Is it a servant of yours?"

"Well..." Fia tittered. "In a manner of speaking."

Nuri's eyes bored into Harry, and her fangs flashed between her full lips. "You lie, sister."

Without warning, she lunged at him. He leapt back, his wand twitching, but Fia dashed in, grasped Nuri's extended arm, and tossed her over her shoulder, laying her out on the floor.

"What's the big idea, Nuri?" Fia blew a lock of her hair away from her face.

"So the rumors were true." Nuri's tone was resigned as she rose to her feet, her pretty face twisted in a scowl. "You, who were once known as the Scourge of Italy, consorting with a mere mortal. Have you forsaken your pride? Forgotten who you are?"

"Have I?" Fia's wings burst out from the slits on her blouse, beating so mightily the others were forced back. "Do you truly think I renounced my heritage for him? I serve the Great Plan, always."

"By fraternizing with _humans_? You're acting against your nature!"

Fia bared her fangs. "Your youth is showing. Hasn't our kind always stood for freedom? Leave the rigid dogmas for the celestials high up in their lofty towers."

Doubt crossed Nuri's face, but a glance at Harry's raised wand had her glowering again. "I refuse to believe you're acting of your own free will! This one must've brainwashed you. The elders warned me of the wizards' insidious magic, lesser creatures that they are."

"Oi!" he said indignantly.

Fia tossed her head back and laughed. "Even if he had, so what? Did the same elders not teach us to use any means at our disposal to make our desires come to fruition?" Locking her eyes with Nuri's, she pranced up to her. "He overcame me with strength and craftiness worthy of our kind. Why don't you stay and see for yourself, hmm? How long has it been since you have lain with a human?"

Nuri averted her eyes. "I..."

Fia gasped scandalously. "You skittish prude! And you dare lecture me about proper conduct for a demoness?"

Air whistled through Nuri's teeth. "I see no reason to dally with lesser life forms!"

Fia abruptly leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Nuri tried to pull away, but Fia's hands snaked around her neck, holding her close. The tension in her shoulders loosened gradually as she melted into the kiss.

"Your lips are as delicious as I remember," Fia murmured, sporting a devious grin. "Come, I insist on lending him to you."

"I don't need a—" Nuri gasped as Fia's tail coiled around hers.

"Are you sure?" she purred. "His carnal proficiencies are... not inadequate, and his energy is most potent."

"Don't," Nuri breathed as Fia's hands groped her arse, "we're being watched."

She snorted. "When has _that_ ever stopped us? Now, let us rectify your inexperience. Don't worry, I'll hold your hand if you're scared."

Nuri's yellow eyes flashed, and she pushed Fia off. Breathing heavily, she glared from her to Harry. "I see I'm not getting through to you. I'll return home and beseech the rulers to aid me in breaking the sorcery over your mind." Her hand raked down, creating a shimmer of heated air.

"That's quite enough of that," Fia snapped, striding up to her. "Catching the attention of the marquises, or worse, is the last thing either of us—" Air wheezed from her lungs as a punch in the gut sent her staggering back.

Nuri kept one hand in a defensive stance, while the other struggled to widen a nascent portal. "It's for your own good."

Fia growled. "So is the beating I'm about to deliver, bitch."

She rushed past Harry in a crimson blur. Her sister danced away, and Fia's fist smashed into the wall, sinking down to her elbow. Snarling, she yanked it out and kicked, but Nuri deflected it with a wing.

"Oh, come on!" Harry took aim yet stayed his hand lest he hex Fia. "Just when I got this place furnished!"

The sisters paid him no heed, wrestling, scratching, and biting at each other in a tangle of limbs. The doors of Fia's wardrobe got ripped off, her bedspread was slashed, and the souvenirs she had collected over the years plummeted from the shelves and shattered on the floor.

"You've grown weak!" Nuri snarled, bleeding from the scratches on her face. "I'd never been able to overpower you in a fight before!"

"I'm trying not to destroy my quarters, you stupid bint!" Fia froze before her head whipped toward Harry, her eyes glinting. "This blockhead is my half-sister, Nuriye—" She grunted as she parried a strike. "Restrain her, won't you?"

Harry furrowed his brows as he recalled the Cardinal Binding. His wand began sketching glowing lines that lingered in the air. "Nuriye, daughter of Saleos... By Varuna, I bind thee from the West... By Indra, I bind thee from the East..."

"No!" Nuriye's gaze darted around in a panic, black flames gathering around her clenched fists. "I'd rather destroy us all than be enslaved by one such as you!" The flames flared to surround her in a roiling sphere. From its surface, black tentacles extended toward anything they could reach, hungry and out of control.

"Not my _clothes_!" Fia leapt in front of her ruined wardrobe and threw out her arms protectively.

The room was cast into darkness as the hellfire consumed light itself, black tongues lapping at the walls and the ceiling. Swearing, he abandoned his incantation and thrust his left palm at the fireball. His skin tingled as the flames pulsed, shrank rapidly, and died with an angry hiss. As light returned, he caught a glimpse of a spade-shaped tail slipping into a narrow portal before it closed.

"My favorite hoodie!" Fia cried, lifting a smoldering garment whose hood had triangular appendages sewn on to accommodate her horns. "She might've meant well, but I'm _not_ letting this slide. Next time we meet, her cute ass is going to get it."

"Some family you've got." He eyed the destruction with weary resignation, then waved his wand over the hole in the wall. "Reparo."

Fia sniffed. "You're one to talk. Your mother dealt with demons, and your godfather left you a house filled with torture implements."

He grinned wryly. "Got me there."

* * *

Harry breathed easier when the massive doors of Gringotts swung shut behind them. Feeling the guards' beady gazes linger on their backs, he ushered Fiamette away.

"What was that all about?" he asked in an undertone. Seeing the normally grumpy goblins act so deferential had been downright disturbing, although Fia had taken it all in stride.

"I sensed Gehennic ancestry in them. Probably some of Zagan's lot, to be so obsessed with coin, marooned on this plane millennia ago." Her tail, sticking out through a slit in the back of a frilly red dress, wagged briskly. "My demonic attributes must've struck fear into their puny hearts."

"Huh." Goblins _were_ jerks of the highest order, so it made a twisted kind of sense for them to be descended from demons. "Maybe you should go back to hiding your tail. We wouldn't want weird rumors spreading."

"Absolutely not! Do you realize how uncomfortable it is to keep it bound under my dress? It _chafes_."

He sighed. "I still don't understand why you can retract your wings but not your tail. Seems oddly arbitrary."

She gave him a catty glance. "I'll have you know there's a perfectly good reason. My wings are magic, while my tail... Well, it would be like you trying to retract your di—"

He clamped a palm over her mouth. "Not in front of children."

Fia pushed it away and glanced around, narrowing her eyes at a little boy who was tugging on his mother's hand and pointing. She blew him a raspberry, then squeaked when Harry pinched her.

"Can we go back to the bank?" she asked sulkily, rubbing her rear. "It was nice to be treated with the respect I deserve for once."

"We got what we came for." He patted the heavy pouch under his robes. The gold comprised a good chunk of returns from their Curse-Breaking stint, but that's what it took to acquire the exotic materials required to ward the house from hellish incursions. Only one shop in Knockturn Alley could supply the ingredients, and even they had to import some from the continent. "Don't mope, I'll treat you to ice cream."

Her expression brightened before she tugged on her bonnet that utterly failed to cover her horns. "_Hmph_. I'm not a child to be bought off with treats."

"You might change your mind after you try Fortescue's. People say it's the best ice cream on this side of the world." He grinned at the way her tail perked up.

"If it doesn't live up to my expectations, I'm taking it out on you," she said pompously, and attached herself to his arm.

Together, they made their way to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and commandeered a small table outside. Fia immediately wandered off to peer at the display window. Harry went for vanilla with raspberry sauce, while she made Fortescue pile four scoops of different flavors topped with syrup, whipped cream, chopped nuts, hot fudge, and rum-soaked cherries into an enormous bowl.

He watched queasily as she began polishing off the unholy abomination. "Is that... good?"

"By Beelzebub, I might have to reconsider the worth of humanity," she said, her tongue darting out to scoop a gob of cream off her upper lip. "I've tried ice cream before, but it was nothing like this."

"You must've had the Muggle kind. Wizards have their own tricks to make it taste better."

She took a particularly large bite, squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her forehead, then immediately took another one. "Could we—no, I _demand_ you provide me with this delicacy at least twice a week."

He chuckled. "Once. If you're good."

She glared at him, but he only looked back impassively. An impish glint entered her eyes, and lifting her spoon, she sucked on it with a loud moan. Unflapped, he glanced around. If any patrons gave their table a second glance, it was because of her antics, not his fame. It was amazing how a few years out of the public eye and a change in physique could make him unnoticeable.

"Harry. Harry Potter?" There was a girlish squeal. "_Enfin je t'ai trouvé_! It really is you!"

Drat, now he had gone ahead and jinxed it. Plastering a smile on his face, he turned to the voice. A young woman of striking beauty stood before him, wavy blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face that shone with happiness.

"Do you mind..." The intensity of her sky-blue gaze made him trail off. "Have we met?"

The woman frowned adorably. "You don't remember? It's _me_." She looked at him expectantly before sighing. "Gabrielle. Gabrielle Delacour. You truly forgot?"

"_Gabrielle_?" he choked out, looking over the white sundress hugging her slim, yet undeniably feminine figure. Catching himself, he forced his eyes to meet hers.

Her cheeks pinkened. "The very same." Her gaze flicked to Fia, who was still demolishing her ice cream, and her lips pursed. "May I join you?"

"Go right ahead." He nearly knocked over his chair in his hurry to stand up and get her one, but Gabrielle already borrowed one from an empty table nearby. Fia snorted into her rapidly emptying bowl.

Perching on the edge of her chair, Gabrielle glared. "And _you_ must be the demon. I saw the evil in you right away."

Fia preened. "Good eye, young one!"

She stomped her foot. "That wasn't a compliment!"

Frowning, Harry produced his wand and cast a privacy charm. "How the hell do you know—_Bill_. He told your sister, didn't he?" He rubbed his forehead. "Damn it. He promised he'd keep quiet."

"Ginger's wife leads him by the pecker," Fia said sagely. "I could tell as soon as I heard him speak about her. It was all 'Fleur said this, Fleur wanted that'."

Gabrielle nodded absently before leaning over the table. "It doesn't matter how I found out! Harry, you need to get away from this... this _creature_ before it's too late."

He savored a spoonful of his own ice cream before speaking. "Why?"

She peered at him in confusion. "She's a demon. A spawn of hell. An amalgamation of all that is evil, given a comely female shape to lead men astray!"

"_Ooh_, I like that last one," Fia remarked.

He sighed. "Like I told your brother-in-law: I _know_. Look, it's not that I'm not happy to see you after all these years, but why are you here? Surely it's not just to enlighten me as to her nature."

She blinked, drawing back. "I—well, not _just_ that. I'm here to save you from her clutches before she corrupts you completely." Her voice grew more certain. "Just like you rescued me, I shall do everything in my power to rescue you in turn."

He gaped at her determined expression, then groaned and massaged his temples.

Fiamette cackled, waving her spoon around. "Do you hear that? This little girl wants to save you from my"—she nearly choked with laughter—"my _clutches_! By Lucifer, you mortals never cease to amuse me!"

Gabrielle's face was beet-red, but she didn't relent. "What's so funny?"

Fia leaned toward her, making her shrink back. "What if I told you that _I_ were the innocent maiden who needs rescuing from _him_?"

"T-that's preposterous!"

She shrugged. "It's closer to the reality of things than the delusion you've built up in your pretty little head."

Gabrielle's golden locks caught the sunlight as she shook her head. "Don't try to befuddle me with your deceitful tongue, fiend. Even if he has some control over you, I know you're still plotting to steal his soul."

"Of course I am," Fia said. "What of it? I'll take any opportunity to backstab him, as he's well aware."

Gabrielle goggled at her, then at Harry.

He shrugged. "It keeps me on my toes."

"That's... but..." She sputtered, fidgeting with her handbag, before pointing a finger at Fia. "You must be poisoning his mind, eroding his morals, for him to think that way!"

He snorted. "Hogwash."

Gabrielle rounded on him. "It's what demons _do_! They're treacherous and wily and can ensnare you without you even noticing. My great-grandmother told me stories..." She shuddered.

"Fia, are you corrupting me?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes," she said.

"See? I told you she wasn't..." He stared at Fiamette, who slurped her melting ice cream without a worry in the world. "_Explain_."

She squirmed in her seat. "There's no need for _the voice_. I'd have been happy to answer." She lowered a hand to rub her buttock. "You didn't think using demon magic would have no consequences, did you?"

He narrowed his eyes as old suspicions came to the fore. "Consequences? Like what?"

"By cultivating your strength beyond what is attainable to ordinary mortals, you become less like them and more like us. Your very being transforms." She laid a palm on his shoulder, her violet eyes shining with an unholy light. "With your growing power, we could eventually carve ourselves out a realm in one of Gehenna's lower circles. I heard Morax was weakened in a fight with Decarabia and wouldn't pose much of a challenge."

He fixed her with a stare. "_That_ was your big plan? I'm sorry, but fighting for scraps in a burning wasteland doesn't appeal to me."

"Think about it," she purred, caressing his chest. "You would be a king. Swimming in riches, being waited on hand and foot, having your pick of concubines—and I would live as a queen at your side."

"Concubines, huh." He barked a laugh. "I have my hands full with just one demoness as it is."

"A dozen or two is customary, even if they do little but strut around your throne room. They are a symbol of a virile and prosperous ruler."

"Get away from him!" Gabrielle stooped to push them apart. "Do you believe me _now_, Harry? Whatever evil magic she taught you, you must never use it again!"

"But it's dead useful!" he whinged. Aside from saving his hide in the pagan barrow, it came in handy more than once against the remnants of Death Eaters seeking revenge for their lord, or upstarts looking to test their mettle against the one who ended Voldemort's reign.

"Emphasis on dead," Fia said, fishing out a cherry and popping it into her mouth. "Nothing better for pummeling your enemies to a pulp or incinerating them."

"Oh, Harry... you're further gone than I feared." Gabrielle worried her lip, her eyes glistening. "But don't you worry, I won't give up! I'll do whatever it takes to restore you to the proper path, I swear—stop laughing, fiend!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?"

"I'll show you how dangerous she is, convince you to cut her loose—"

"Not happening. She still hasn't repaid her debt to me." He looked at Fia stonily, but she was humming and swinging her legs as she poked at the remains of her dessert.

"I'll..." Gabrielle gulped, then put a hand over her chest, her cheeks flushed. "I'll take her place, then!"

Fia giggled. "_Êtes-tu prêt à le servir en tant que femme_?"

She jutted out her chin. "_Si c'est ce que ça prend_!"

His gaze alternated between them before he threw his hands up. "French, too? Just how many languages do you speak?"

"Most of them. How else would I make deals with you mortals?" Fia smiled smugly. "Would you like to know what the little strumpet said?"

"I don't particularly care. If you're done eating, we're leaving." He glanced at Gabrielle, who looked very flustered for some reason. "Where are you staying? Don't tell me you came here alone."

She crossed her arms. "Nowhere yet. I only arrived this morning, and I've been searching for you since."

He sighed. "Go home, then. Your parents must be worried."

"I'm a Beauxbatons graduate as of a year ago, and an adult in both worlds," she said proudly. "No one can tell me what to do."

"I see," he said evenly, rising to his feet. "Enjoy your time in Britain, then." He strode out into the alley with Fia in tow.

"Wait—Harry, please wait!" Her feet pattered on the cobblestones as she caught up and fell in step. "I'm coming with you!"

He spared her a glance. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am! If you're not banishing her, someone needs to watch out for you and make sure she's not... tainting you further!"

As if to spite her, Fia clung to him, pressing her breasts against his arm. Gabrielle took a deep breath, then resolutely clasped his other hand.

"Er..." Harry arched his eyebrows at her, but she wasn't meeting his eyes. "This is ridiculous. Find a place to stay the night and go back to France tomorrow. There's a Portkey agency just down the street."

"I'm not leaving, not while you're in danger," she insisted, "and neither am I letting you out of my sight. It was pure coincidence that I stumbled upon you. No one could tell me where you lived, and your address isn't on the Floo Registry!"

"That's kind of the point. Do you realize how annoying dealing with solicitors was before I took measures?" It was good to know they were still working.

Gabrielle's mouth opened, then closed. "But I'm here to _help_, not bother you!"

"Most people who clamored for my attention after the war claimed the same."

Her lip trembled, and tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. He observed warily, hoping she wouldn't start bawling in the middle of the street, and breathed easier when she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Now now, master, surely you won't leave a poor naive girl to fend for herself?" Fia sent Gabrielle a saucy wink. "Think about it... A pretty young thing like her, navigating a foreign country all alone, is just begging for disreputable wizards to take advantage of her."

Gabrielle stared at her, then sniffled theatrically and batted her lashes at Harry.

He gave Fiamette a suspicious look. "Why are you sticking up for her? She hates your guts."

She shrugged, flashing her fangs in a vague grin. "Maybe after getting to know me better, she'll see I'm not so bad after all."

"I'd never, _ever_—" At Fia's arched eyebrow, Gabrielle swallowed, then ground out, "I'm willing to give it a try."

"Splendid! What say you, master?"

He groaned in resignation. "We have room to spare, I suppose... Just for a week or so, you hear?"

Gabrielle squealed happily and hugged his arm, but he barely cracked a smile. He had a hunch his life was about to become a lot more complicated.


	13. Angel, Part Two

Harry Apparated the girls to the doorstep of Grimmauld Place and made sure no one was missing body parts after the double Side-Along. Shaking off her disorientation, Gabrielle craned her neck curiously, her small nose wrinkling in distaste at the dilapidated facades around them. He unlocked the door and motioned her inside. She didn't take two steps into the house before Fia overtook her and barred her way. If one included her horns, she stood a good head taller, forcing Gabrielle to look up to meet her eyes.

"Not so fast, little witch." Fia stepped so close the tips of their shoes touched. "I have to search you first."

"You have to _what_?" Gabrielle squeaked as Fia pawed at her, the thin fabric of her dress the only barrier between their flesh. "S-stop it!"

She backpedaled, but Fia grinned and wrapped her tail around her bare leg to keep her in place. When the red-faced Gabrielle wedged her fingers underneath to pry it off, Fia used the opportunity to seize her handbag. Gabrielle tried to recapture it, only to gasp and cover herself when Fia's tail flipped up the hem of her dress. Chucking the bag aside, Fia pirouetted behind her and proceeded to fondle her modest chest.

Harry found himself ogling. "Er, I'm not sure this is strictly necessary." He shut the door without moving his gaze away from the spectacle.

"You'd be surprised at the places one can hide a stiletto in." Fia struggled to keep Gabrielle still while dragging her fingers over the wrinkled dress. "It would wound my pride if I allowed my master to be assassinated."

"That's enough." He cleared his throat and tried to sound more sincere. "Let the poor girl go."

"Not before I've made certain—" She yelped and staggered back as Gabrielle headbutted her. Her tail whipped side to side as she spread out her fingers and lengthened her claws. "I was _trying_ to be gentle."

Gabrielle's cheeks were flushed and her breathing rapid, but her glare hadn't lost strength. "I won't let you toy with me, demon."

"Big words for a feeble little human," Fia taunted.

Gabrielle's gaze darted to her handbag that lay the floor, and she lunged toward it, only to squeak and flinch back from a slash of claws. Fia laughed as she stepped on the bag with her platform shoe.

"You keep your wand here? Silly witch. What good is it if you lose it before the battle even started?"

"There won't _be_ any battles." Harry stepped in between the two, the back of his neck prickling under their glares. "Cool it, Fia. You started it."

"It's all right, Harry." Gabrielle laid her palm on his upper arm and nudged him gently but insistently out of the way. "If it's a fight she wants, a fight she'll get, wand or no wand."

Choking back laughter, he turned her way. "No offense, but what can you possibly..."

His jaw sagged. In her anger, Gabrielle's face had become angular, sharper, and her blue eyes almost glowed with icy rage. Even more strikingly, her nails had lengthened into wicked bird-like talons.

"So the strumpet thinks she can—"

Fia's breath was knocked out of her lungs as Gabrielle tackled her to the floor. Snarling, Fia rolled them over, but Gabrielle raked her talons across her cheek and made her shrink back with a cry. A clumsy two-legged kick had Fia staggering away, but as Gabrielle rose to her feet, Fiamette pounced, her frilly skirt swishing, and smashed her against the wall. She threw her claws at Gabrielle's throat, but the shorter girl ducked, and the claws instead gouged a deep furrow into the plaster wall.

"Not again!" Harry cried, drawing his wand. "Do you know how much renovating this bloody place cost me?"

Fiamette reared her arm to strike again, then froze, curiosity replacing the fury on her face. Grabbing a fistful of Gabrielle's dress, she leaned in and sniffed. Harry trained his wand on them but didn't interfere, nonplussed.

"You stink," Fiamette whispered.

Gabrielle's talons froze inches away from Fia's neck. "I do not!"

"Yes, you definitely do." Fia stooped and sniffed all over her front, while Gabrielle wriggled bashfully. "You reek of _celestials_."

"What?" Harry and Gabrielle said in unison.

Fia slipped her hand behind Gabrielle's neck and underneath her dress, groped around, and yanked it out, eliciting a squeak. Her pinched fingers held up a small downy feather of pure white. Gabrielle shot Harry a mortified look as she twisted to rub her shoulder blade.

Fia chortled. "A descendant of exiled angels! Your blood is so diluted you can't even bring out your wings. What a delight it is to see one of your heritage brought so low."

"I might not be able to bring out my wings," Gabrielle growled, "but I can still do _this_." Brilliant white flames erupted above her splayed-out fingers.

Fia took an alarmed step back before sneering. "Please, your power is like a candle to the black sun compared to mine." Hellfire burst into being over her cupped palm.

Harry suppressed an urge to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming. Two ancestral enemies under one roof. _His_ roof. What had he done to deserve this?

"Right, that's quite enough of that." Poking Fia's palm, he snuffed out the hellfire, then turned to Gabrielle and tweaked her nose, causing her to squeak and clasp her palms over it. Ignoring their outcries, which sounded comically similar, he schooled his face into a stern expression. "This better be the last time you fight in my home."

Gabrielle gave him a teary-eyed look. "But—"

"Your _butt_ will be what I glue a Portkey to if you cause a scene again," he said, staring her down. "I'll _try_ to direct it to France. In the general direction, anyway."

"Haha!" Fia crowed as Gabrielle ducked her head. "Way to put the brat in her place!"

He fixed her with a glare. "Same goes for you. Attack her again, and... and I'm not taking you shopping next week."

"The new collection," she gasped. "You _wouldn't_!"

"Watch me," he said, folding his arms.

Fia gnawed on her lip before speaking. "Oh, very well." She shot Gabrielle a grumpy look. "I'll play nice with the degenerated celestial."

"I mean it." Just in case, he laced his voice with authority. "_Don't hurt her_."

"I won't do anything she doesn't want me to—pinky swear," she chirped, her eyes affectedly innocent.

He sighed, figuring that was the best he would get.

* * *

After showing Gabrielle to a guest bedroom and making sure she had everything she needed, he retreated into the study and jotted a letter to the Delacours that half informed them of the situation, and half begged them to save him from the attentions of their stubborn daughter. He didn't know the address, and France wasn't exactly small, but owls had their ways of locating people, so he tasked Melly the house-elf with delivering the letter to the post office in Hogsmeade.

That done, he went back to poring over the faded scrolls on warding off demons. Protecting a home from them was expensive and complicated, but entirely feasible. The issue was that he only wanted to prevent portals from being opened while allowing a certain demoness to stay.

"Barrier from intrusion," he muttered, checking his Aramaic dictionary, "but I don't need the aversion part." There was no helping it; adjustments would have to be made to the ancient ceremony. What a pain.

He lost himself in the work, the ticking of the clock fading into the background, until a soft _pop_ shook him out of his contemplation. Setting down his quill and swiveling on his chair, he saw Melly curtsy for him.

"Ah, you delivered the letter?" He yawned. "Good job."

"Melly delivered it hours ago," she said with a note of reproach. "Dinner is ready. Sir's ladies are already waiting downstairs."

Startled, he glanced at the clock, then at the navy blue sky outside the window. He ran a hand over his face. "My ladies, huh. Please tell me they're not fighting again."

Melly wrung her hands. "They glare and scream at each other, but Melly doesn't understand the foreign words."

He flinched. "Blimey. I better hurry before they bring the house down on our heads."

He barreled two floors down to the kitchen, where he preferred to dine over the stuffy living room. Female voices grew in volume as he neared it, yet when he nudged open the door, he was greeted by an abrupt silence. Gabrielle was glowering at Fia, who turned his way and smiled pleasantly, her wings vanishing into her shoulder blades.

"About time you got here!" she said. "We didn't want to start without you."

He arched his eyebrows. "I heard an argument."

"We were just engaging in some friendly girl talk. Isn't that right?" She bared her fangs at Gabrielle in an approximation of a smile.

Gabrielle concealed her talons under the table. "T-that's right. Girl stuff. Nothing you would be interested in, Harry."

"Well, so long as you stick to our agreement." Hiding his smile, he joined them at the table. "What's for dinner tonight?"

"Steak!" Fia exclaimed, banging the tabletop. "I was promised steak!"

"And you shall have it, mistress," Melly said, levitating a lightly charred slab of meat from its resting place on the counter to her plate. Harry's and Gabrielle's portions followed, somewhat smaller and more generous on the vegetables.

Fia dug in, making her pleasure known through exaggerated moans. For every disgusted look Gabrielle sent her, she became even louder.

"Well done, little she-imp," she said, looking toward the counter. "When Harry makes me his queen, you will be in charge of preparing our food."

The elf inclined her head. "Melly is honored."

"Harry's not making you his _anything_," Gabrielle hissed, her knife clinking against the plate as she put too much force into carving her steak.

"I'm already his closest and most faithful companion," Fia retorted.

Gabrielle stared at her incredulously. "You as good as admitted to scheming against him!"

"Yet as his _only_ companion, am I not by definition the most faithful?" She glanced at Melly. "No offense, little one—you know the kind of companionship I mean."

"None taken, mistress," Melly said.

Gabrielle growled while Harry chuckled to himself; he couldn't argue with that logic.

"Since I am his lover," Fia continued smugly, "it is only obvious that I should be the one to stand at his side once he assumes a position worthy of his burgeoning power."

Gabrielle gripped her utensils so hard her knuckles whitened. For a good minute, she stabbed at the food on her plate in silence. "You... you shouldn't be doing that, Harry."

"Doing what?" he asked absently, relishing the meal.

"You know. Indulging in... _relations_ with her." Gabrielle's cheeks were red as she stared down at her plate. "You're presenting her with a means to manipulate you. Given who you are, I'm sure you can find a witch even prettier than her."

Fia laughed. "How about that! Are you aiming for my position, pipsqueak?"

"I didn't mean myself!" Gabrielle shot Harry a fleeting look. "But... if that's what it takes to save him..."

"I don't _need_ saving," he said tiredly.

"Are you certain? A beautiful angel coming to save you from an evil demoness... It's almost like a fairytale." Fia sighed theatrically, then giggled at his grouchy expression.

He focused on his food and refused to get drawn into the argument any more, half-amused, half-exasperated by his dinner companions sniping at each other across the table. It was painfully clear that despite all the years, Gabrielle still harbored a crush on him, but while she was very attractive, he wasn't about to give up his current arrangement with Fia. There were the seven years she was supposed to serve him, true, but if he was honest with himself, her quirks and sharp tongue had grown on him.

Not to mention, she was a wildcat in bed.

Smiling into his cup of after-dinner tea, he almost missed the bombshell said wildcat dropped.

"So, when are you going to bed her?"

He choked, wiped the tea from his chin, and glared at Fia. Her wide eyes were innocence itself. "I'm not. Why would you say that?"

She shrugged. "I just wanted to know if I should join you tonight or if you prefer to break her in alone."

"You'll _definitely_ join me tonight so I can show you the consequences of running your mouth off," he said, making her shudder dramatically. Catching himself, he turned to Gabrielle. "I'm sorry. Pay her no mind, she's yapping because that's all she can do."

"S-sure, Harry."

Fiamette stretched languidly. "Yapping, you say? Lucifer strike me down if I'm about to speak a lie: the reason this little chick came here was not to rescue you, but to have you for herself."

"I did not!" Gabrielle fidgeted under her skeptical stare. "Fine, it's true that I have—I have _feelings_ for Harry, but unlike yours, they're pure! I only want what's best for him. If he doesn't feel the same way about me, I'll gladly leave him in peace once we're rid of you!"

She laughed. "Rid of me? You got spunk, saying that to my face." Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "How about giving her _your_ spunk, Harry?"

He groaned. "And you act like my puns are bad."

* * *

Harry's palm impacted Fia's panty-clad butt with a resounding slap. She gasped, wriggling over his knee. His hand quickly rose and fell, alternating between her arse cheeks.

"That's what you get for giving me cheek," he remarked.

Her mouth opened, but before she could say a word, he slapped her arse so hard her feet rose off the floor.

"We've been over this." _Slap_. "Many times." _Slap_. "Yet you keep acting up." _Slap._ "I'm beginning to think you're enjoying being turned over my knee and spanked like a misbehaving schoolgirl." He paused to knead her sensitized arse, scrunching up her panties.

Her tail wiggled feebly as she panted for air. "You mortals... and your silly sensibilities. Just because I suggested giving the little hussy some proper education—**"**

He yanked up her panties, making them dig into her flesh. "That's another matter. What will it take to get you to act civilly toward her?"

"I wasn't uncivil," she gasped. "Merely reminding her that I'm your first."

"There you go with that nonsense again." He slipped a hand between her legs and stroked her over the damp fabric, causing her to moan. "I'm hurt, you know. I thought you'd be more possessive of me." Hooking his fingers under the waistband, he tugged her panties down her hips.

She wiggled her slightly reddened arse, a tattoo of a griffin with two wands crossed underneath prominent on her cheek. "A large harem is a status symbol. I won't have my master seen as a weakling."

He spanked her, causing her flesh to jiggle. "I couldn't care less about how demons see things. It's your world, not mine."

Her head turned, and one misty violet eye peered up at him. "Would a normal human have the audacity to try and make a demoness into his servant? You're more like us than you admit."

He frowned. "I did what I had to. What you forced me to do."

"Perhaps," she said, sounding unconvinced. "Yet you took pleasure in it."

"Enough," he growled. "Don't think your words will get you out of your punishment." The slap of his palm echoed in the master bedroom, almost drowning out her whimper.

"Did that... hit a nerve?" she gasped out.

Scowling, he proceeded to methodically spank her. His left hand caressed the small of her back as his right gradually picked up speed. Fleshy slaps resonated in the room, interspersed by her whimpers. Each time his palm made contact with her bare bottom, a shudder went through her body and her tail became rigid.

By the time he reached a count of forty, Fia was gasping for air. Her hot body twisted atop his lap as her tail curved around her thigh and to her crotch.

"Are you getting off on this?" He caressed her reddened cheek, even that light contact making her shiver. "Horny slut."

"As if," she gasped, her tail rubbing unceasingly.

He tutted. "That won't do." _Slap_. "Tell you what." _Slap_. "You may touch yourself." _Slap_. "But you may _not_ cum until I'm finished, or I'll lock you in a chastity belt."

She gulped convulsively, her tail halting.

"If you understand, then beg for it like the dirty little slut you are." He gave her another swat, then traced his fingertips down her thigh.

"Please," she gasped. "Please punish me."

His lips twisted into a crooked grin. "Well done." _Slap_. "Fifty more to go. What do you say, slut?"

"T-thank you... master."

He quickly regained his rhythm. As he rained open-palmed blows on her bruised flesh, Fia's tail rubbed furiously at the junction of her legs. At times she would halt, shudder, then resume again. Her moans changed in pitch, became breathless. He purposely slowed as he approached ninety.

"Ten to go." Taking hold of the base of her tail for leverage, he slapped her ass hard. "Count."

"O-one," Fia gasped. "Two... three..." Her voice hitched. "P-please, don't stop—"

"Don't—tell me—what to do," he said, interspersing his words with spanks. "Count."

"S-seven!" Her legs shook, then stiffened at another spank. "Eight!"

He halted, fondling her lightly. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip hard. A string of wetness stretched from her cunt to the heart-shaped tip of her tail as it stopped rubbing and drew back an inch. He spanked her once more.

"Nine! Please, _please—_" She quaked with need.

His palm descended one last time, and the sound of flesh on flesh reverberated through the room.

"Ten!" she screamed, tossing her head back. "Oh! Oh!" She ground against his lap as pleasure rippled through her body.

He caressed her abused bottom as she came down from her high. When she slumped limply atop his knees, he eased a finger into her scalding heat. She shivered and thrust up her arse, taking it deeper. He pulled out and laid a light swat on her bottom.

"Up," he said.

Fia rose and sat on his lap, locking her glazed eyes with his. Brushing her lip with his thumb, he slipped his slickened finger into her mouth. She moaned as her tongue danced around it. Her tail brushed his tented crotch, and he trembled.

"On the bed, ass in the air."

She obediently clambered onto the bed and presented herself to him. He ripped off his shirt and yanked off his trousers, breathing hard in anticipation. A slight noise came from the door, and he turned to look.

"Master." Slipping a hand between her legs, Fia spread her dripping cunt. "Don't make me wait. Please, I need your cock so bad."

All other thoughts forgotten, he climbed on the bed. "As you wish."


	14. Angel, Part Three

Harry awoke with Fia curled up beside him, her body giving off heat like a furnace. He admired her sleeping face—she looked almost innocent when she wasn't mouthing off—then reluctantly rose, tucked the covers around her, and headed into the en-suite bathroom. If he started anything, she would keep him in the bedroom for another hour, and he had the warding to work on.

After washing up, he dressed and tiptoed out of the bedroom, furrowing his brows at the ajar door. Fia was still soundly asleep. Had he forgotten to close it last night? He would have to be more careful; they were no longer alone in the house.

He shut the door behind him gently and went to the study, where a letter awaited him on his desk. Rather than an answer from the Delacours, it was a notification to pick up his order at the apothecary down Knockturn Alley. His eyebrows rose; it was much sooner than he expected, but that wasn't unwelcome. Settling into his comfortable armchair, he retrieved yesterday's notes and set about modifying the ward.

All too soon, Melly called him down to breakfast, and he descended into the kitchen to find Gabrielle already at the table, wearing indoor robes she must've packed in her expanded handbag.

He offered her a smile. "Morning."

"Good morning," she mumbled, meeting his eyes fleetingly before staring down at her lap.

Before he could ask what was bothering her, footsteps pattered behind him, and a warm weight latched onto his back, making him stumble.

"Harry," Fia whinged, hanging off him with her bare legs wrapped around his waist, "how could you leave me alone in that cold lonely bed? I love to wake up to you—"

"Okay, that's enough," he said, drowning out her next words. "You know I'm working to prevent any more unwelcome visits from your family."

"Pfft, we can handle Nuriye and whoever she calls for help." Fia let go of him and pranced to the table, grinning ear-to-ear. Her tail protruded through the back of a comfy dressing gown she favored when lazing around the house. "Hey, little girl. Sleep well?"

Gabrielle fidgeted but didn't speak.

He frowned. "Was the bed uncomfortable? I could ask Melly to prepare a different room."

"It-it's perfectly fine!" Gabrielle assured. "Thanks for letting me stay, Harry. Your house is very nice."

"So it is," Fia said, her eyes still centered on Gabrielle. "Especially the thick carpeting."

Gabrielle's cheeks pinkened, and she ducked her head.

Harry pondered the mystery of the girls' odd behavior before giving up and digging into his breakfast. The surreptitious glances Gabrielle shot him when she thought he wasn't looking and the knowing looks Fia sent her in return were an improvement over the constant bickering his ears had to suffer yesterday.

Taking a sip of his tea, he addressed his guest. "Any plans today?"

"Saving your soul from eternal damnation," Gabrielle said without skipping a beat. "Stop laughing, demon!"

"Beauxbatons is famed for its enchantments curriculum, right?" he asked. "Care to look over some notes for me?"

She perked up. "I'd be happy to!"

"It can't be helped," Fia drawled. "I too shall bestow upon you my immense knowledge."

He gave her a skeptical glance. "Last time, you started whinging about being bored after five minutes, and I had to kick you out of the study when you tried to..." He cleared his throat.

She shrugged. "My well-being is at stake. The sooner you finish that silly little project, the sooner you can go back to paying me the attention I deserve."

"Damned fiend," Gabrielle muttered. "Even in helping him, your motivations are selfish."

Fia flashed her fangs. "_Everyone's_ selfish, little birdie. Us demons just don't pretend to be otherwise."

"Don't call me that!"

Her smile widened. "What are you going to do about it? Sprout your rudimentary wings and cluck—_eek_!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry let go of Fia's tail. "Stop provoking her. If you're both serious about helping, I won't have you wrecking my study. Coming?"

Fia rubbed the part of the tail he had squeezed and peered at him balefully before perking up. "Not yet, but soon, I hope."

His lips twitched. "If we finish charting out the ward quickly, that can be arranged, you horny..." Swallowing back the words, he shot Gabrielle an apologetic look. Living with no one but Fia, he got used to saying things that wouldn't fly in polite company.

"What about my horns?" Fia asked innocently, brushing her hair away from them.

"They're majestic as always," he said dryly. "Let's go."

Between Fia's knowledge of languages and Gabrielle's surprisingly keen understanding of enchantments, they rapidly made headway on adapting the ancient ceremony to ward the house. Only one problem remained.

"The purifying incense." He pulled away from the notes laid out on the floor and rubbed his eyes. "It's an integral part of the protections, but as it is, it'll prevent any demon from entering the house. I hate to say this, but we just might need help from a Potions master."

Fia scoffed. "You would seek advice from a mortal when you have a wise and beautiful demoness at your beck and call?"

He looked around. "Where?"

Her tail smacked against the floor. "Do you wish to hear my insight, or would you rather keep blundering as you did for the past week?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "Are you saying you can tweak the recipe to exclude only you from the incense's effects?"

"I can do better." She smiled at having got his attention. "Replace it."

His eyebrows rose. "With what?"

"Why, your blood. Think about it... it's anathema to us demons, but since you ingested mine, I should be able to bypass the wards entirely."

"You can't be seriously considering that, Harry!" Gabrielle exclaimed. "Blood magic is illegal and dangerous!"

Fiamette laughed. "Why is it that humans outlaw everything the slightest bit exciting? Trust me, the protections will be much stronger than if you used your puny herbs. You'll have to bleed a great deal, though." She dipped a nail into an inkwell and sketched a glyph on an empty parchment. "My father used similar sorcery to protect our castle from intruders. It will keep out anything but the greatest Princes—and me, of course."

He hummed thoughtfully, watching a schematic emerge under the deft movements of her index finger. "Tomorrow evening, then, after we pick up the rest of the ingredients. Nicely done, Fia."

She gave him a toothy smile. "As you well know, I aim to please."

Gabrielle grasped his sleeve. "Don't do this. It could be a ploy to drain your blood."

"It's not his _blood_ that I'm interested in draining," Fia said, giving her a wink.

Gabrielle spluttered, then shook her head, her locks whipping her pink cheeks. "She's just biding her time, she said so herself! This is a great opportunity for her to weaken you and strike when you're vulnerable!"

"It is." He rose to his feet and stretched with a groan. "But I don't think she'll betray me just yet. She enjoys serving me too much."

"You _wish_." Red fire licked up her nail, burning off the ink stain. "Your strength and wiliness proved greater than mine, but the moment you slip up, I'll pounce."

He snorted. "As if I'd be scared of someone who goes bonkers over Hello Kitty."

"_You_—" Fia sprang to her feet, shooting a flustered glance toward Gabrielle. "Not a word more, or..."

"Or what?" he said, crossing his arms. "It seems last night wasn't enough to remind you of your place. Perhaps I need to take harsher measures."

Her nostrils flared, and she ran her tongue over her teeth. "Attic?"

"Attic." It had been a while, and he was looking forward to a good workout.

She gripped him by the collar and pulled him toward the door. "Stakes?"

"One request, within reason." Freeing himself of her claws, he followed her through the corridor.

"You're on, mortal." In contrast to her words, her tone was gleeful, and the tip of her tail swished side to side as she lead the way upstairs.

Hearing softer footsteps behind, he glanced back to find Gabrielle trailing him. "You should stay away for a while."

"Why? Are you going to... to have some alone time together?" She averted her gaze, her fingers clenching the fabric of her robes. "N-not that it's any of my business! It just sounded dangerous—sorry if I misunderstood—"

"Oh, let the birdie watch," Fia said from a few steps ahead. "She seems to have a predilection for that."

Gabrielle let out a _meep_, her cheeks coloring. Harry gave her a glance of passing curiosity, but he had bigger things to worry about.

"Stay in the corner and put up a shield," he said, unbuttoning his robes as he walked.

Ascending into the attic at Fia's heels, he shrugged off his robes and hung them on a hook, leaving him in joggers and a T-shirt. He rolled his shoulders and stretched while Fia took position on the opposite side between the attic's slanting walls. Gabrielle halted uncertainly at the top of the stairs.

"Can we begin already or are you going to keep stalling?" Fia called out, tightening the belt around her gown.

"Bring it on," he said, not rising to the bait. The flame within him roared to fill his limbs with heat, and he lifted his fists defensively.

"Don't mind if I do," she said in a sing-song voice.

She darted left, then right, dancing toward him. He lowered his stance, his muscles taut. A couple steps away, she planted one foot and pivoted, her other foot hurtling sideways at his head. He grunted as it connected with his raised forearm, making him skid along the floor. He grabbed at her extended leg, but she slipped away before lunging again.

He leapt back from an upward swipe of her claws, feeling a single nail slice his shirt. There was a loud gasp, and he glanced back to see Gabrielle erect a spherical shield.

A fist struck his stomach, doubling him over; only his flexed muscles saved him from puking his guts out on the spot. Staggering, he lifted his head to glare.

Fia responded with an impudent grin. "Stop ogling the birdie or I might get jealous and seriously hurt you."

He coughed, righting himself. "I barely felt that. Your sister was right: you're losing your edge."

Her pupils narrowed, and she sprang forward in a flurry of lightning-fast jabs. He backpedaled covering his vitals and taking the rest of the attacks. When she clawed at his neck, he evaded, grasped her arm, and flipped her over his shoulder. Her head rebounded off the floor on impact. He raised a foot to stomp her, but she rolled out of the way and kicked at his legs. Leaping over the kick, he pinned her down.

Her hot breath washed over his face as the air was driven from her lungs. Her leg brushed his crotch sensually, and when he stilled in surprise, she reared her head and slammed his. He reeled, seeing stars.

Bending both knees, she kicked mightily and sent him soaring. He landed in a heavy crouch, barely staying upright, and rubbed his ribs, wheezing in a breath. Fia didn't relent, gathering speed before jumping at him in a flying kick.

Allowing it to graze his side, he grabbed her leg, spun on the spot, and tossed her at the wall with the momentum. She twisted mid-air to brace with her hands and feet against the slanted wall before kicking off it.

Again and again they met in a blur of fists and claws, Fia dancing around him while he stayed low to the ground. Knowing he couldn't beat her in dexterity, he deflected what he could and counterattacked whenever the opportunity arose.

Frustration became evident on her face when she failed to whittle him down. Gaining some distance, wings bulging under her gown, she thrust out a palm and molded a ball of black flame.

Harry glanced anxiously at Gabrielle. "Oi, don't be daft—"

The admonishment died on his lips when Fia flung the fireball. He threw his hand forward, catching the scorching flames. In the instant that it took for them to fizzle out, Fia darted up to him and spun in a roundhouse kick. It connected with his ribs and tossed him aside. He rolled several times along the floor, groaned, and gathered himself up.

Fia traipsed toward him leisurely. "Ready to give in?"

"Too tired to go on?" He wiped his lips, the back of his hand coming away bloody.

She gave him a predatory smile and lashed out with her fists. He grunted as pain lanced through his ribs with every blow. His tattered shirt flapped around irritatingly; throwing a haymaker to force her back, he ripped it off and wrapped it around his right fist.

She licked her lips. "Giving the birdie a show?" Her gaze flicked to the shimmering sphere at the top of the staircase.

He lunged and reared his right arm as though to punch, but instead threw the bunched-up shirt at her face. When she stumbled back, he swept her legs from underneath her and tackled her to the ground.

She strained against his hold, but he forced more unholy strength into his muscles and held her down. Her violet eyes met his, her crimson hair splayed out on the floor, strands matted to her sweaty forehead.

"That wasn't fair," she panted. "_Well done_."

"I had a good teacher."

She bent her neck, but rather than the headbutt he expected, her lips mashed to his. He stiffened before stooping over her and kissing her back. The coiling of her muscles was his only warning before she flipped him over, straddling his waist and pinning his wrists.

"You haven't learned enough," she breathed, her pupils dilated. "The victory's mine."

He glowered as he stoked the flame within himself. Even knowing he would pay for this later, he recklessly channeled more power into his screaming muscles. With a bellow, he threw her off. Rising to his feet, he tried not to show the pain he was in as he met her wide eyes. "Not even close."

She shivered. "You've gained in strength again. That's... impressive progress." Worrying her lip, she untied her tight belt and parted her gown.

He blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Evening the odds," she said, eyeing his naked torso. "It's not fair if I'm the only one distracted."

Slipping the gown off her shoulders, she allowed it to fall to the floor, leaving her in a lacy purple bra and sheer panties. His gaze swept appreciatively over the expanse of glistening tan skin.

She bounded toward him, her breasts bouncing, and slashed at his head. Ducking, he hesitated to return the blow, and she tittered when her follow-up punch connected, knocking him into a chest of drawers beside the wall. Snarling, he yanked out a drawer and swung it at her, but her wings erupted from her back, forcing him to shield his eyes from the blast of wind.

Panting, he watched her take to the air in the center of the narrow room. His strength waned; he had to end this. Letting go of the drawer, he purposely stumbled, falling to one knee.

Fiamette bared her fangs and swooped down in a kick. He dodged at the last instant, and her foot crashed into the chest of drawers, plunging through several layers of wood. Before she could yank it out, he scooped her up around the waist and slung her over his shoulder. Her legs kicked in the air and her fists pummeled his back until he grasped her tail and twisted.

She screeched. "N-not fair!"

"I thought unfair was good," he said, holding down her legs one-armed while squeezing her tail. "Do you give?"

"Eternal blaze consume you, you brazen—" She squeaked as his grip tightened. "Fine, you win, barbarian! Next time, I won't go easy on you." She went limp, and the warm wings draped over him rustled as they shrank into nothingness.

His pulse raced, he was sore all over, and his legs trembled under her weight, but he couldn't help grinning. There was a primal satisfaction to winning a contest of strength, doubly so against someone who haunted his nightmares for years. It reaffirmed his victory all over again, and he could never get enough of the rush.

Oddly enough, neither seemed Fiamette.

"Excuse me," he grunted, pushing past the wide-eyed Gabrielle to trudge down the stairs. She stuttered something, but the thumping in his ears was too loud, and the inner flame he had uncaged all-consuming.

Sweat dripped from his brow as he hauled Fia a floor down. Even a single flight of stairs left his legs feeling like jelly, so rather than keep descending to the master bedroom, he headed toward the nearer bathroom.

Fia squirmed, her bra-clad breasts pressing against his back. "What unspeakable things will you subject me to now that I'm at your mercy?"

"Shower," he said, saving his breath. Kicking open the bathroom door, he strolled in and set her down.

"Excellent—I feel _very_ dirty right now." She reached behind to unclasp her bra, and her pert breasts sprang free, her nipples pointed. Bending forward, she wiggled her panties down her hips. Harry wrenched his gaze away and turned to close the door, but before he could grasp the handle, she seized his other hand and guided it between her thighs. "_Ah_... See? It's your fault for pummeling me so hard."

Any rational thought fled his mind. "I was just thinking that if pummeling the message into you didn't work, I'd try pounding it in next."

Biting her lip, she pulled him backward into the shower cabin. He yanked down his bottoms, and jumping on one foot, kicked them outside.

Her gaze drifted to his raging erection. "And... what is the message?"

The nozzles came on, spraying hot water over their sweaty bodies. Fia's hair clung to her tan skin, falling over her ample breasts. He seized her horn to yank her head back and claimed her lips.

"That I'm your master," he said, drawing back.

"That's quite a message," she breathed. "I'm not sure it will sink in."

"We'll see about that." He turned her around and shoved her against the tiled wall.

"You ought to be more gentle with a maiden." She spread her legs, sending a smoldering glance over her shoulder.

He chuckled. "If you're a maiden then I'm a bloody Hippogriff."

"You might be related to one, given the size of your organ." Her tail wound around his thigh, tugging him closer. "Before you get any ideas, I meant your _brain_."

Taking hold of her narrow waist, he drove into her molten heat. They both gasped, Harry pausing to collect himself before he started pumping. The tail around his leg tightened spasmodically as moans escaped Fia's lips.

"Keep riling me up," he panted, "and you'll get more than you bargained for."

Her palms slid along the foggy tiles, his thrusts reverberating through her body. "It'll take more to impress me."

Sinking his fingers into her wet locks, he got a good grip and pulled, making her arch her back with a moan. He leaned closer to graze her neck with his teeth, working his way up to her earlobe. As he nibbled on it, he could feel her walls start to flutter around him.

"Finished already?" he grunted. "So much for the famed succubus."

"Don't—get—_ooh_!"

Her retort dissolved into a whimper as the hand he had around her waist slid down to her damp curls. As his fingers brushed her little nub, she stiffened, throbbing around him. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to keep up his rhythm as she came around his cock.

"Yes... _oh_!" Tremor after tremor wracked her body, her nails scraping the wall as she slid lower, her arse pushing against him.

He held her tight until she loosened and her tail drooped from his leg. As he pulled out, she made a dissatisfied noise.

He spun her around and crouched to hook an elbow under her knee. Lifting it up, he pushed her back against the wall, leaving her standing on one leg. His arm trembled under the weight, but his need overrode the burning of his muscles.

Her left leg bent around his waist, and her glazed eyes locked with his. She was spread before him, pink and dripping. He inched closer and slipped inside her.

Fia's eyes flew wide open. "Again?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

He thrust his hips forward. Her lips parted in a moan. Taking hold of her hip with his free hand, he drew back and drove into her again, building into a rhythm.

Fia hugged him around the shoulders, peering at him through half-lidded eyes as her breath left her lips in gasps. When he sped up, she arched her neck, and he bent to suckle on her skin. She bit her lip so hard her fang drew blood. He licked up the crimson droplet, hot and coppery. Moaning against his mouth, she trapped his lower lip between her teeth.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he stared into her dark, bottomless pupils. "This what you wanted? To be slammed against the wall and fucked?"

She tightened her leg around his waist, tugging him closer. "Yes... yes!"

He pounded into her like possessed. "For all your talk... You get off on being dominated."

"Love it," she cried, her voice going up an octave.

"My little cumslut." His vision swam as his pleasure built and his exhaustion threatened to catch up to him. "I'll pump your cunt full of my cum."

"Please." The tip of her tail caressed his tightening balls. "Give it to me."

Letting out an animalistic grunt, he buried himself to the hilt. Ecstasy crashed over him, so intense he nearly blacked out. He spurted deep inside her, over and over, barely registering her claws raking his back as her cry joined his.

"Yes, _oh_!" She convulsed around him, her tail massaging him. "Master, my master..."

He gulped down air, struggling under her weight. "That's right. Good girl, Fia."

Her leg around him slackened, and he let go with a groan, bracing a palm against the wall. Silent for a change, Fia snuggled into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her as warm water rained from above.

* * *

After a filling dinner, he retired early and slept like a log throughout the evening and night. When his eyes next fluttered open, morning light was filtering through the drapes. A groan escaped his mouth as pleasure surged through him, a wonderful moist heat enveloping his cock. He glanced down at the tented blanket and lifted it to find Fia's horned head bobbing up and down. Her violet eyes practically shone in the darkness underneath as they turned his way.

He groaned again as she increased her pace, and it wasn't long before he bucked into her mouth. She hummed, pumping him with one hand as she gulped down his seed.

"_Pah_. Good morning, master." She licked her lips, grinning mischievously. "Have a good dream?"

He caught his breath. "You're insatiable."

"It's not my fault," she said, pouting. "I woke to this thing poking me like it wanted to come out and play."

"Well," he said, reaching down to caress her crimson hair, "it's not the worst way to start the day."

Her tail wagged, rustling under the blanket. He hid his grimace with a smile; simply extending his arm was torture on his biceps. He rolled on his side, Fia scooting away, and slung his legs over the edge. Drawing a bracing breath, he rose and stumbled into the shower. He could sense her eyes boring into his back.

Cool water poured from above. He shivered but didn't turn up the temperature. Reaching for the soap, he swore as the bar slipped from his fingers.

"Silly, silly, silly Harry," Fia said in a sing-song voice, joining him. She shuddered as she stepped under the spray, and turned the tap, warming the water up. "You're in pain, aren't you?"

He grunted noncommittally, not looking forward to being mocked.

She tutted as she picked up the soap and worked up some lather. "I warned you not to test your limits before your body caught up physically." Her hands began soaping him up. "But I can't say I dislike that about you. You don't shy away from a challenge."

He flinched as her fingers skimmed over a scratch on his shoulder blade.

"Does that still hurt?" Hugging him from behind, Fia planted a kiss on his shoulder.

"You've got to learn to go easy with your claws."

"You're one to lecture me about _going easy_." She squirmed against him. "I'm still sore from yesterday, and I don't mean our spar."

Hiding his smile, he leaned into her wonderful touch. He knew it wouldn't last, but having her act deferential was worth nearly tearing his muscles for.

After the shower, he asked Melly to fetch him some Pain-Relieving Potion and slogged down to the kitchen, where Fia took obvious delight in perching on his lap and feeding him breakfast. It was ostensibly to take care of him, but by the way Gabrielle glowered at the pair of them, it was evident Fia only did it to annoy her.

Having gotten through the breakfast and the girls' usual sniping, he entertained the idea of picking up his order from Knockturn Alley but decided that Apparating in his current condition was asking for trouble. Instead, he jotted a note that he would come by tomorrow, and asked Melly to deliver it to the shopkeeper.

The afternoon was spent lounging on an armchair before the living room's fireplace with a book—one that had nothing to do with demons, for a change. Gabrielle had declined his suggestion to go out and see the sights, claiming she needed to watch out for him so that "the demonic slattern" wouldn't take advantage of his weakened state. Fia naturally took that as an invitation to cling to him and make suggestive remarks. It was only Harry reminding them of his warning that prevented their bickering from devolving into a brawl.

Unable to focus on his book, he brought out a pack of cards, hoping to distract the girls into giving him some peace. The two took to Dragon Poker with surprising readiness, treating every match as if it were a matter of life and death. Unfortunately, his idea ended up backfiring when Fia suggested betting articles of clothing, and Gabrielle, after a glance at Harry, agreed.

On the whole, it turned out to be the laziest day he had allowed himself in a long while, but between Fia showering him with affection, and Gabrielle appearing elated just to be at his side, he had such a good time that he couldn't beat himself up over it.


	15. Angel, Part Four

Harry strode down Knockturn Alley, steering clear of the rubbish-strewn gutters and the stalls of shady hawkers. It was hard to tell which smelled fouler. Fia clung to his arm, baring her fangs at anyone who dared approach, yet preening under the attention. And she got plenty of attention: between her bat-print kneesocks, a ruffled skirt so short it could be called a belt, and a midriff-baring top that accentuated her breasts, she sported more skin than the local harlots.

Gabrielle clutched his other arm, her blue eyes wide as she craned her neck at the sights. He hadn't objected to her closeness. While the dangers of Knockturn Alley were often overstated, it still wasn't a safe place—especially to young women dressed in scanty sundresses that screamed "I don't belong". He would've left her at Grimmauld Place, were it not for the risk of Fia's sister returning with reinforcements at any moment. That, and Gabrielle insisted on coming along as though it were _him_ who needed her protection.

"Try not to act like a tourist." He tugged Gabrielle along when her gaze lingered on a warty hag behind a blood-splattered stall. "You might attract trouble."

She gulped, then said in an undertone, "_Merde_! I'm fairly certain that... woman is selling human liver."

Fia glanced over her shoulder. "Hmm? Perhaps I should buy some while I have the chance."

He sent her a perplexed look. "What are you going to do with something like that?"

"Why, eat it, of course." Fia giggled at his expression. "Just jesting, I doubt humans taste very good... Except you, of course." Her breasts squished against his arm, and she skimmed her tongue along his jaw.

Gabrielle gawked, then upon meeting Fia's amused gaze, quickly faced forward, her cheeks glowing.

He jerked his head away. "As long as you don't gouge out my liver."

"Never! If there's one part of you I'm interested in eating, it's your—"

"Shush," he chided good-naturedly. Knockturn Alley was the last place he wanted to cause a scene in. "At least wait until we get back."

Her tail whipped around to caress his arse. "Is that a promise?"

"If you behave."

Fia licked her lips and fell silent.

Passing a pawnbroker's and a dingy pub, they approached their destination: a narrow, windowless storefront that had "Seymour's" written in peeling paint above the door. As Harry extended his hand toward the doorknob, the back of his neck prickled. He whirled around and narrowed his eyes.

A bell tinkled as the doors of the apothecary across the street swung open, releasing a hooded witch clutching what looked like a jar of fingernails. Her gaze lingered on Harry's companions before she sniffed and hurried off. In a dark side-alley next to the apothecary, a black-robed man swore under his breath as he tapped his smoking pipe with his wand, spark after spark lighting up his unshaven face.

Gabrielle pulled on his sleeve. "Harry?"

"It's... nothing. Just my imagination." Pivoting, he pushed the door open.

Sputtering oil lamps struggled to illuminate a dusty interior. The only way in for daylight was a tiny window above a narrow door into a cramped courtyard. Stacks of antique books and dubious trinkets burst from the crooked shelves around, but he knew it was only a front for the store's real business: smuggling and selling stolen goods.

A middle-aged man in robes that hung loose on his bony frame shuffled out of the back and up to the counter.

"Ah, Mr. Potter! Here to pick up the goods, I presume." His rheumy eyes considered the trio, lingering on Gabrielle. "And with yet another beautiful lady on your arm. You should know better than to bring someone like her to a place like this."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Surely your store is perfectly safe, Mr. Seymour."

The man tittered. "Of course, good sir, of course. Just thinking out loud." He produced a threadbare handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. "Well then, please excuse me while I retrieve your order."

Sweeping the three of them with a rueful look, he vanished among the shadowy shelves. Harry drummed his fingers on the counter. Fia wandered off to poke at murky crystal orbs, while Gabrielle remained at his side, glancing around curiously.

Minutes passed. He frowned and opened his mouth to call Seymour, then glanced back at the sound of the door creaking open. A bald wizard with a scar along his scalp entered, eyed the trio, then plucked a dusty tome from a shelf and proceeded to peruse it with great interest.

Harry forced himself to look away, his fingers now tap-dancing on the counter. He surreptitiously freed his left hand from Gabrielle's hold and patted the pocket holding his wand.

The door opened again, and two sets of footsteps stomped in. His heart beat faster. Swiveling around, he clasped Gabrielle's hand and strode toward the exit, but two strangers barred his way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the baldie who had entered first toss aside his book and edge closer.

"Excuse me," he snarled, but before he could bull his way through, a wand jabbed into his back.

"No sudden moves, guv," a man's voice lisped. "Same goes for your bitch. I see her claws come out, I blow a hole right through your chest."

Harry slowly looked back to find a fourth wizard pulling off an invisibility cloak and giving him a gap-toothed grin. The other three trained their wands on Fia. Her narrowed gaze took in the situation, and her nails retracted.

"That's right, nice and easy, and you come out of this in one piece." Gap-Tooth gave a rasping laugh. "Me and the gents here, we have a business proposition, so why don't we get out of here and have a talk?"

"Do as he says." Harry was surprised by how even his voice sounded despite the adrenaline flooding his body. At his side, Gabrielle shivered, her eyes wide as saucers. He couldn't let loose, not yet, or she might get caught in the line of fire.

"Glad to see a reasonable man, bloody delighted I am." Gap-Tooth shoved him toward the door into the courtyard, the wand digging in between his shoulder blades. "Walk."

Harry didn't resist as he was marched out into a cramped yard surrounded by overhanging eaves. Baldie separated Gabrielle from him and jabbed his wand under her chin; the other two held Fia at wandpoint at a healthy distance. When she sneered at them, they actually took a step back.

"Alright, guv, 'ppreciate the cooperation," Gap-Tooth said. "Here's how this is going to go down. You'll tell the redheaded bitch to go with us, all quiet like, and then we part ways and you go on to live a long happy life. How's that sound?"

Harry's jaw sagged. "You're here for _her_?"

"'Course we're here for her! She's some kinda exotic half-breed, ain't she?" Gap-Tooth spat on the ground. "I don't care enough to know, but there's rich folk offering a pretty Knut for her, and here you are parading her around in broad daylight."

He barked a laugh. How refreshing, not being the target for once. Just good old greed, nothing to do with the whole Voldemort business.

The wand poked into his back. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, go on. How much are you willing to pay for her?"

The men exchanged stumped glances. Gap-Tooth grabbed Harry's collar and stabbed his wand to his throat. "Your life for starters, you daft git."

His gaze darted around. "Alright, fair argument. Let us go, and you can have her. I promise I won't look for you afterward." There was little point in that, as Fia will have turned these idiots to ash by then.

Laughter greeted his words, but it sounded unsure, forced.

"Listen to 'im, 'e won't look for us," grunted Baldie.

"Not if he knows what's good for him," Gap-Tooth said. "Nigel, hand him the cuffs."

One of the men targeting Fia produced a pair of manacles forged from a dull grey metal and tossed them at Harry, who caught them with a grunt. There was a respectable weight to them.

"Right, guv, go on 'n cuff her," ordered Gap-Tooth.

Harry's fingertips tingled as he ran them over the chain links. Consecrated silver... This complicated things.

"Go on, then!"

He walked as slowly as he dared, sinking into an Occlumentic trance with every step. His concern for Gabrielle's well-being faded into the background as cold logic took over. Knowing he would have to move quickly and with precision, he drew on his inner flame, not allowing the accompanying pain to affect his expression.

A dozen eyes watched his progress, Fia's slit-pupil ones among them. She held her head high, but he could see her stiffen as she eyed the manacles.

"Extend your hands," he said loudly. Then, leaning closer, he whispered, "Shield me."

Her eyes widened. He spun and flung the manacles at Gap-Tooth. Shoving his hand down his pocket, he drew his wand and disarmed Baldie, who yelped out half a syllable before his wand was wrenched from his fingers. It sailed toward Harry, but rather than catch it, he ducked, his ears ringing with yelled incantations. Leathery wings folded around him, and the incoming curses fizzled out against a sphere of hellfire.

The opening salvo petered out, and Fia unfurled her wings with a snarl, scattering black fire everywhere. Gashes opened in the walls and screams rent the air as the hellfire incinerated everything it came in contact with. Harry saw black flames lap at the hem of Gabrielle's dress and took aim, but she thrust her palm down and conjured her own fire. The opposing forces annihilated in a burst of sparks.

A yellow curse buzzed past his ear, and he rounded on Gap-Tooth. To his right, Gabrielle swore up a storm in French as she kept Baldie away from his fallen wand. He could hear Fia take to the air with mighty beats of her wings, drawing the enemy spellfire.

Jets of light lanced between him and Gap-Tooth, gouging the flagstones or rocketing skyward as they were deflected. Harry gradually whittled down the thug's surprisingly competent defenses but couldn't land a finishing blow. Fia's scream resounded behind. He rushed toward his opponent and parried an Entrail-Expelling Curse before slugging him in the stomach. Strengthened by the momentum, the punch knocked Gap-Tooth right through a wooden wall.

He spun around. Fia was on the ground, wingless, one loop of the manacles clasped around her ankle. A thug approached with his wand trained on her, another but a pile of ash.

Harry summoned the manacles to pull Fia toward him, and the thug's curse missed its mark. As she skidded over the flagstones to come to a halt at his feet, he pummeled the thug with Bludgeoning curses until one got through, caving in his sternum with a sickening crunch. The man crumpled in a heap.

Harry rounded on Baldie, who had reclaimed his wand and was dueling with Gabrielle. Under their combined offensive, the last standing thug was forced on the back foot. Sweat trickled down his scalp, and a look of desperation came over his face.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The emerald jet of light streaked at Gabrielle. Harry lunged toward her, feeling as if he were wading through molasses. A crystal orb rocketed past, and intercepting the curse, shattered in a deafening blast. Gabrielle fell back with a cry as she was sprayed with the fragments.

Skidding to a halt, Harry snarled a Paralysis Curse, and Baldie toppled over. He strode over and stomped the man's wand hand, finger bones crunching under his heel. His own wand pointed between the man's wild eyes, light pooling at the tip.

Gabrielle's gasp made him regain his composure. The three thugs in the courtyard were incapacitated or worse, and the one he had slammed through the wall wasn't coming back for more.

He rushed up to Gabrielle and looked her over. Her dress was in tatters, but she appeared uninjured except for a few scratches on her face where the crystal shards had grazed her. He lifted his wand.

"Episkey. Episkey."

"I'm—I'm fine," she said, her chattering teeth belying her words. "I saw her steal it. The orb." She tittered hysterically. "Wanted to tell you. Call her out."

"Shh. Hang in there." He proffered his hand.

Hauling her to her feet, he ushered her toward where Fia sat on the ground with a peeved expression. He knelt to examine the manacles. Not a seam was visible on the loop of grey metal locked skin-tight around her ankle. Fortunately, it didn't appear to cut off circulation.

"Latched on like a snake while I was flying," she said. "Nasty piece of magic. I would dearly like to have a word with its maker."

He rapped the loop with his wand, then grabbed on and tried to pry it open. "Shit, we'll have to deal with it back home. Better get out of here before the Aurors arrive." He glanced at the trembling Gabrielle. "Can you Apparate?"

She drew a shuddering breath and nodded resolutely. A funny little twirl later, she clutched her forehead. "It's jinxed!"

He glanced around, then scooped Fia up in his arms. "Must've been one of these pricks. Let's try getting out into the open. Follow close."

He plodded up to the hole he had smashed in the wall and stepped through, finding himself in a dusty storage space. Gap-Tooth was slouching against a barrel and moaning; upon seeing them, he feebly raised his wand, but Harry kicked him so hard his neck snapped back with a crack.

_Damn it,_ he was still boosted. Looking away from the man's glassy eyes, he awkwardly stuck out his wand from under Fia's legs and aimed at the opposite wall.

"Reducto!"

Chips of wood clattered onto the cobblestones ahead, and the stench of Knockturn gutters wafted in. Jumping through the hole, he set Fia down and supported her by the shoulders. Gabrielle hopped down next to them.

"Back to Grimmauld, quick," he said, breathing heavily.

Visualizing his destination, he spun on the spot, then groaned as he crashed into what felt like a brick wall. His head swiveled around. The hawkers had fled at the first sign of trouble—one had to have outstanding survival instincts to live here—but the pipe-smoker conspicuously stood in the side-alley, his wand weaving through the air.

Their eyes met. The pipe fell from the man's lips, and he fled. Harry's first hex whizzed past his shoulder, but the follow-up connected, and the man fell face-first onto the grimy pavement. Harry raced toward him, hauled him up by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

"Who sent you?" The man's eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe; Harry relaxed his hold a fraction. "Where did you get those manacles?"

The man's lips moved, but a series of cracks drowned out the words. Harry looked into the main alley and saw red-robed Aurors surrounding Fia and Gabrielle.

"Drop your wand!" one yelled to Harry.

He gritted his teeth, glaring at the thug he held against the wall. _Useless fucks_, popping up after the fight was over—

"Drop it or we're taking you down!"

He tossed his wand at the pavement and let go of the thug, who collapsed to his knees. In moments, they were surrounded by Aurors. Taking a deep breath, he tamped down his power and his rage alongside it.

They were promptly searched, disarmed, and taken to a holding cell at the Ministry. Harry only gave monosyllabic answers when asked something until the two Aurors who were processing them tried to separate him from the girls.

"They stay with me," he said.

"You'll be questioned separately," said a younger Auror. A fresh recruit, by the looks of him, too young to remember the horrors of the war. "Them's the regulations." He took the wide-eyed Gabrielle by the elbow and began ushering her out of the cell.

Harry clamped his hand over the Auror's forearm. "_They stay with me_."

"Out of the question! Now let go before—"

The Auror yelped and dropped his wand as Harry tightened his grip. His colleague turned and lifted his own wand.

Harry raised his left palm in a gesture of peace, yet didn't let the first Auror go. "Call Shacklebolt for me, would you?"

The Aurors exchanged uncertain glances. The older of the two took a closer look at Harry's face. Harry schooled his lips into a smile and let go of the first, who snatched his arm back and rubbed it.

"I'll relay the message," said the older Auror, "but the Head Auror is very busy."

"We'll wait until he finds time for us," Harry said amicably, and went to sit on the cell's bench. Gabrielle looked from him to the Aurors, then scampered to sit down at his side opposite Fia.

The first Auror picked up his dropped wand and glowered at Harry looking like he had something to say, but his colleague led him out of the cell, speaking under his breath. Harry grinned when he caught a "Potter" before the cell doors slammed shut and the Aurors left the room. It was good to know his name still meant something around these parts.

Reclining against the wall, he prepared for a long wait. Fia sulked, swinging her right leg and making the shackles scrape the floor. Settled on his other side, Gabrielle stared at her lap. She kept worrying her lip and shooting Fiamette surreptitious glances for what felt like the longest time before clearing her throat.

"Why... why did you save me?" she asked. When Fia didn't react, Harry nudged her with an elbow, making her twitch as if waking up. "You could've done nothing, and no one could even blame you."

Fia blinked before her lips stretched into a grin. "Because you're amusing to have around. Think of it as defending a pet you've grown fond of."

Harry chuckled. "Like the hellhound you mentioned?"

She leaned forward to leer at Gabrielle. "Except much easier on the eyes."

Gabrielle looked away, her cheeks pink. "I should've known it would be something like that." Not meeting Fia's gaze, she added grudgingly, "Thanks anyway."

"Think nothing of it, little birdie. I did it because I wanted to, not to create a debt."

Gabrielle scrunched up her nose thoughtfully and went quiet. Fia's shackles kept scraping the floor, over and over. He was about to ask her to stop when she groaned loudly.

"No one's coming! Can't we break out of this place already? _Please_?"

He snorted mirthlessly. "Just be patient."

Hours dragged on. By the time Shacklebolt deigned to grace them with his presence, Harry was seriously considering Fia's suggestion. The Head Auror contemplated the trio for a minute, then opened the cell door and motioned them out without a word. Settling behind a guard's desk, he slapped a sheaf of parchment atop and waved Harry into the opposite chair.

"What am I going to do with you, Potter?"

"I don't know what you mean, Shack," he said innocently.

Shacklebolt gave him a dirty look. "You raised quite a commotion. Trainee Chase had to visit a healer to treat his contusion. Resisting an Auror normally carries a fine in itself."

He folded his arms. "The bloke was being unreasonable."

"And so you called up me. It's not the Head Auror's job to question suspects, you know."

"I wasn't aware I was a _suspect_."

Shacklebolt sighed and leafed through the parchments. "You left three corpses in your wake, one incinerated so completely not even the bones remain. I couldn't stop the investigation even if I wanted to. After giving your statement, you'll have to make an appearance in a week or so to answer further questions." He flicked his wand, causing a Dicta-Quill to hover over an empty parchment. "What did the riffraff want with you?"

He jerked his chin back at Fia. "Her, actually. I got the impression they were traffickers of some kind."

"Hmm. The survivors said they were after—excuse my language, young lady—an unusual half-breed." Shacklebolt's gaze scrutinized Fia.

Harry flashed her a warning look over his shoulder, mentally begging her to stay quiet. "It's not a crime to have non-human blood."

"Of course not." Shacklebolt was silent for a moment. "It's just that, one of the involved was convinced she was some kind of a... demon."

He snorted. "Probably a superstitious Muggleborn."

"What about her eyes?"

"Botched Polyjuice."

"The horns?"

"Human Transfiguration. She lets me practice on her."

Shacklebolt's eyebrows rose. "And the shackle around her leg?"

"A fashion statement." There was a choking noise behind him, but he maintained a poker face.

"A fashion statement," Shacklebolt repeated blandly.

He shrugged. "You know how young people are these days. Always wanting to look like rebels."

"I hope you're aware this will be on record," Shacklebolt muttered. His gaze moved above Harry's shoulder. "And how does Miss"—he glanced down at the documents—"Delacour figure into this?"

"Nohow. Just a fan, not knowing to stay away from the mess that is my life."

"I'm not—" Gabrielle gulped when Harry's and Shacklebolt's gazes centered on her. "I'm no fangirl—I'm Harry's friend! Please, sir, he's not at fault here. He was just defending _her _and got caught up in everything."

Shacklebolt glanced at the Dicta-Quill. "Are you prepared to repeat this in court, should the need arise?"

She jutted out her chin. "I am."

"Very well. Don't leave the country—we'll owl you when we need you to come in again. Same goes for you two."

Harry grinned, rising to his feet. "Cheers, Shack."

Shacklebolt grimaced and reached out to shake his hand. "Try not to get into any more trouble, Potter—Harry." He tugged Harry closer, his dark eyes flicking sideways to indicate Fia. "I don't know what game you're playing, but if it gets out of hand, even I won't be able to cover for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured.

Shacklebolt clapped him on the shoulder, and they were free to go.

* * *

"Now you can see exactly why I wanted you to stay away from me." Harry shrugged off his dirty robes and deposited them into Melly's extended hands. "This isn't the first time this kind of thing happens. I'm used to it, and Fia actually welcomes the fight, but..."

"I can take care of myself!" Gabrielle bristled at Fia's snort. "I was just caught by surprise. It all happened so quickly... I'll do better next time, promise! My Defense Against the Dark Arts grades were top of the class. Well, nearly."

He goggled at her. "Are you being serious? After all this, you would risk your life by staying with me?"

"Yes, I would." Her misty eyes met his squarely. "For you, I'd do anything!"

He threw up his hands. "Then you're an idiot."

"You're the one who's an idiot, you great prat!" Gabrielle's teary gaze flicked to Fia. "Those men were there for _her_! If you just sent her back where she came from, none of this would've happened!"

"Not that this isn't entertaining, but will someone _please_ help me get this thing off already?" Seated on the step separating the foyer from the house proper, Fia lifted her right leg and dangled the shackles in the air.

Harry and Gabrielle exchanged a glance. He looked away first, embarrassed by his outburst, but not ready to change his position either.

"Let's go down to the basement and see what we can do," he said.

He descended the stairs, hearing metal clang behind him as Fia kicked and dragged the manacles along. Against his expectations, Gabrielle followed, her eyes widening as she took in the torture implements and the chain rings mortared into the walls.

Fia grinned. "Curious? I'll tell you all about how Harry used these on me some time."

"He—he _wouldn't_, surely." She shot him a glance, which he ignored. "Even if he did, I'm sure you deserved..." Her voice trailed off as she eyed the rusty iron maiden.

"Coming to terms with your crush not being a storybook hero yet?" Fia said.

"It's permissible to use whatever means necessary to fight evil." There wasn't much certainty in her voice.

"Wouldn't that mean becoming evil yourself?" Fia asked, clanging her way down. She laughed at Gabrielle's perturbed look. "See, that's the problem with your kind's morality. _We _just do whatever we want and don't pretend to be guided by some lofty principles."

Harry pulled a battered worktable away from the wall and patted the surface. "Get on."

"Why, master," Fia purred, "in front of her? You've grown more daring."

Rolling his eyes, he lifted her and deposited her atop. The tip of his wand tapped the shackle around her ankle, then the chain links, his detection spells producing clinks of differing pitch. Someone more experienced could tell what enchantments had been embedded in the metal by sound alone. He only knew that they were bespelled to high heaven, and likely beyond his ability to break.

He went on to try every unlocking and canceling spell he knew anyway, Gabrielle occasionally piping up with a suggestion or attempting a charm herself. When all failed, he moved on to darker variations of the Severing Charm, conjured acid, even fire. Nothing left so much as a mark on the grey metal.

An hour into the work, Fia's loud aspersions as to his spellcasting ability began getting on his nerves. He produced a large vice, clamped the shackle—her ankle and all—between its jaws, and hacked at it with a hammer and chisel. Besides relieving his stress, that didn't accomplish anything either.

"Damn it!" He chucked the hammer at the wall, immediately feeling guilty when Gabrielle jumped at the noise. "And Bill's on a tomb run abroad! I reckon I'll Floo Samuel, he gave me his address—"

Fia banged a fist against the worktable. "Don't you _dare_. Anyone but that... scientist."

"Then I'll write Bill and ask to refer me to another Curse-Breaker who can keep their mouth shut." He unscrewed the vice. "It's quite a ways to go for an owl. You'll have to bear with it for a few days."

"But I hate this thing! It makes my skin crawl, I can't use magic, and I can't even walk around properly!" She swung her leg, and the manacle whooshed dangerously close past Gabrielle's ear. "Get it off, get it off, get it off!"

He observed her tantrum with a knowing exasperation. "You're just mad you won't be able to go shopping in Milan on Thursday, aren't you?"

"Do you have _any_ _idea_ how long I've been waiting for that?" Fia hopped off the table and step-dragged her way to press up to him. "Harry, won't you please—"

"I'm not Portkeying to the continent to buy clothes for you."

She shoved him. "Traitor! Miser! Slave-driver!" Bending down, she clawed at the shackle. "If this cursed thing wasn't the antithesis to my powers... _Wait_." Straightening up slowly, she stared at Gabrielle.

Gabrielle fidgeted with her dress when the pressure of her gaze didn't relent. "What is it?"

"You're a celestial, aren't you?"

"So you claim. Honestly, it's just a veela origin myth no one truly believes—"

"Oh, shut your beak. Regressed as you are, you can still bring out your flames, can you not?" Fiamette clambered back on the table and patted the shackle. "Melt this off."

Gabrielle swallowed. "Are you sure? You could get hurt."

"I'm certain you will be very, _very_ careful when wielding those flames around me," Fia said, baring her fangs. When Gabrielle didn't appear convinced, she sighed and added, "Think of it as repaying me if you prefer."

Indecision warred on Gabrielle's face before she took a bracing breath and stepped forward. Fia stuck her shackled leg out from the edge, rolling her foot side to side impatiently.

Gabrielle cupped a palm and squinted down at it. "I haven't practiced much—I'll try, but it usually only comes out when I'm angry."

A sly look crossed Fia's face before she sneered. "Pathetic. Back where I come from, even children know how to channel their rage into magic. And you had the gall to introduce yourself as an adult?"

Gabrielle gaped. "W-what?"

"Is your hearing as inferior as your breeding?" Leaning forward, Fia looked her over and sniffed. "And you think yourself worthy to stand at Harry's side with your feeble power and your twig-like body that would never satisfy a man. I should pluck you like the chick you are for your insolence."

A growl rose from the back of Gabrielle's throat, her cheekbones sharpening, her nails lengthening. White flames flickered into existence above her palm.

Fia leaned back. "You're welcome."

Gabrielle froze. "You... you..." Her voice lost its harshness. "You riled me up on purpose? You didn't really mean it?"

"Of course I did it on purpose." Fia smirked. "Doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

Gabrielle ground her teeth, the flames burning brighter, and thrust her palm at Fia, who flattened herself on the table. Not to be deterred, Gabrielle brought her flaming hand down, making Fia roll away with a fearful cry.

"Stop! I said _stop_, you crazy bint! Wait—I take that last part back!" Fia tried to clamber off the table's other end, but Gabrielle grabbed her ankle with her other hand and dragged her closer. Fia's wide eyes sought out Harry's. "My powers are sealed! This lunatic will seriously kill me—why are you _laughing_?"

Gabrielle's giggles joined his. She sounded adorable and all the more sinister for it, given how she held a Snitch-sized, blazing-white fireball inches away from Fiamette's chest.

Fia's tail whipped agitatedly as she caught on. "So the birdie can play," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

"And don't you forget it." Gabrielle drew back, looking very pleased with herself.

"The flame, stupid girl, the flame!" Fia cried, pointing.

Gabrielle looked at the spark hovering above her palm and yelped. Cradling it in both hands, she stoked it while Fia extended her leg. Bringing the fire under the shackles, Gabrielle set it to lick at the metal. In no time at all, a reddish spot spread among the dull grey.

Harry repeated the detection spell, which now produced a crackle rather than a clink. He whistled. "The enchantments are unraveling. That's some fire you've got there."

"Legions of our soldiers perished to it during the Great War," Fia hissed, her face twisted in pain. Harry extended his hand, and she clasped it so hard his bones creaked.

"Are—are you alright?" Gabrielle asked. The fire wavered.

"Keep going! Just..." Fia gestured with her free hand. "Compress it. If you can, shape it into a blade. Ever done that?"

"No," Gabrielle breathed, her face a mask of concentration, "but I'll try."

The white orb shrank yet brightened, the metal now glowing orange at the point of contact and red toward the edges. The bottom of the loop began to warp. Fia bit her lip to smother a whimper. Harry was losing feeling in the hand she was squeezing.

There was a loud crackle. Multicolored lines flared along the manacles' surface before fading as though never having been there.

"Enough!" he barked, brandishing his wand.

As Gabrielle fell backward on her rear, he launched a stream of water at the glowing shackles. A cloud of steam erupted with a hiss. He split the inert metal with a Severing Charm and examined Fia's blistered ankle.

"Melly!" The house-elf popped in, her ears drooping at the sight. "Please fetch some burn salve from the apothecary on Diagon Alley."

"Don't bother," Fia said, twisting her foot experimentally. "She was careful. It was only the mundane heat that hurt me, and that'll heal in a jiffy."

"Maybe you shouldn't move yet—"

"Ha! Don't underestimate my power."

Black wings emerged from her back, her crimson locks billowing out. Landing gracefully on the floor, she proffered a hand to Gabrielle, who took it after a moment's hesitation. Hauling her up, Fia kissed her soundly on the lips.

"Thanks," she said, grinning. "I guess some of you celestials aren't that bad." Leaving Gabrielle red-faced and speechless, she linked her hands and stretched them above her head. "Now that I have my powers back, shall we amuse ourselves by hunting down those who humiliated me so? As I recall, two of them were still among the living."

"The Ministry will see to their punishment." Satisfied that Fia was alright, Harry set to putting the tools away.

"The Ministry," she mused. "We could take care of them along the way. Those fools acting as if we were at fault for crushing our enemies was an affront in itself."

"T-there are laws against using deadly force, even in self-defense," Gabrielle piped up, her cheeks still pink.

"Another absurdity of your way of living," Fia scoffed. "We're strong, and they're weak. It's simply unnatural for them to force their rules on us and not the other way around."

Against himself, Harry laughed. "What do you suggest we do, then—wage war on the government?"

"Are you forgetting that I can sense your kind's power?" Fia balled a fist, a sinister smile on her face. "We could've obliterated most of those red-robed warriors without breaking a sweat, you and I."

Gabrielle appeared disturbed at the turn of discussion, but he took it in stride, long since used to Fia's antics. He pushed the worktable back against the wall and dusted off his palms. "And after that?"

"Don't play stupid—you install yourself as their overlord and have them cater to your every need. And your queen's, naturally."

He hummed, pausing to pat Fia's head before heading up the stairs. "I'll think about it."

"You _will_?" She caught up and took his arm, her tail swishing.

"Harry!" There was a patter of lighter footsteps behind them. "Harry, _please_ tell me you aren't going to overthrow the government!"


	16. Angel, Part Five

Come evening, Harry opted for a long soak in the tub to soothe his muscles. After drying off and changing into fresh underthings, he walked languidly into the bedroom, only to halt at the threshold. Fiamette knelt atop the bed, clad in black side-tie panties and a matching bra with straps that connected to a frilly choker around her neck. Her hand held what looked like a potion bottle.

She smiled and patted the sheets. "Lie down on your stomach."

Admiring her elaborate lingerie, he walked up and slumped face-first on the bed. There was a sound of a bottle being uncorked, and he couldn't suppress a groan when warm, slick hands began kneading his shoulders.

"What's the occasion?"

She poured some oil on his back before massaging it. "It's a servant's job to tend to her master after battle. Is this not to your liking?"

It was very much to his liking, so he said nothing and relaxed under her touch. Fia hummed in approval, her fingers tenderly but firmly kneading out the knots in his abused muscles. When she reached the waistband of his boxers, she patted his rear.

"Turn over."

It took some effort since his muscles had turned to goo, but he flipped over. Fia straddled him in reverse and worked her way up his legs, wiggling her panty-clad butt closer and closer to his face. He shivered when her fingers traced his thighs.

Fia's eyes had a gleam to them when she turned around to knead his pecs. Her knee skimmed his crotch, then again. He looked at her in question. She smirked, and abandoning any pretense of accidental contact, straddled him and rocked to and fro.

He groaned. "After today, I can't believe you still have the energy."

"I'm merely giving you a massage," she said, her tone affectedly innocent. "It's not my fault if you get aroused by my magnificent body."

Her hands roamed his chest, keeping up the charade as she humped him. When his front was as slick and warm as his back, she wiped her palms on his abdomen and rose to put away the bottle. He exhaled at the loss, but Fia shortly returned to drape herself atop him and kissed him.

"What happened to 'merely a massage'?" he murmured.

"I'm not finished. Haven't tended to this part yet, have I?" She caressed him over his boxers. "Lie back and let your servant take care of everything."

He groped a bra-covered breast. "Isn't that just something you want?"

"Me?" She scooted back, planted a kiss atop his boxers, then slid them down. The vertical pupils of her eyes dilated. "Look, you're raring to go. It would be remiss of me to leave you unfulfilled."

She gently stroked his shaft with an oil-slickened palm, then bent down to lave his balls with her tongue. Her hand moved with tantalizing slowness, and the teasing went on until he was twitching with need.

"You look ready to burst." She lapped a bead of precum off his tip. "I thought you didn't want this?"

Laughing at his mock glare, she rose to her knees, the straps attaching her bra to the choker pulling up her breasts. Under his fascinated gaze, she unfastened the whole ensemble.

Her breasts spilled free, and she cupped them with a moan. Not breaking eye contact, she extended her tongue to drool onto his cock, then sandwiched it between her soft breasts. He tilted his head back with a groan.

Squeezing tighter, she glided back and forth, the swollen head of his cock popping up and disappearing between her tan tits. His breathing quickened, and he began thrusting lightly, but she drew away, leaving his cock throbbing in the air.

"I want to drink your cum," she said throatily, and his frustration evaporated.

Wrapping her lips around his length, she bobbed up and down. Where her motions had been playful and teasing, they were now vigorous and demanding. Her crimson hair was wild around her face as she worked him. Not a minute passed before he clutched her horns and finished in her mouth.

Fia swallowed and sucked and swallowed again, making muffled noises of approval. Breathing heavily, he brushed the hair away from her glowing face. He would never admit it, but the look of happiness she got from pleasuring him melted his heart.

Then he invariably recalled that she was a demon, and thus probably just thrilled about draining a bit of his vitality. He grinned wryly.

Fia released his cock from her mouth and licked her lips sultrily. Edging forward, she straddled him. Her panty-clad crotch pinned his softening member to his stomach.

"Like my new knickers?" She rocked against him. "Silky smooth, are they not?"

"Yeah," he breathed, feeling her heat through the damp fabric.

"Not as smooth as _me_, though." Her slender fingers pulled at the ribbon tying her panties at the hip. "Should I?"

The ribbon tautened, and the knot began to unravel. He stared as if mesmerized, then exhaled when she let go of the ribbon.

Her eyes glinted. "Silence? Why, if you prefer, I can finish you off like this." Wiggling atop him, she leaned forward, her hair cascading over his chest. "But wouldn't you rather spill your seed inside me?"

He sighed in mock exasperation. "What did I do to get saddled with such a horny succubus?"

"You defeated me and bound me to your will," she said, peering into his eyes, "so you better take responsibility, or I might seek diversion elsewhere."

"Oh?" he growled, propping himself up on his elbow and running a palm up her waist.

"I might"—she gasped as he cupped her breast—"I just might go tease the birdie if you neglect me." It was difficult to gauge from her flushed expression whether she was serious.

A muffled noise came from the hallway. He turned to look, but Fia blocked his line of sight. "Did you hear something?"

"Not a thing. Your silly round ears must be playing tricks on you." Pushing him down, she peppered kisses along his jaw. "So, how about it? If you're too tired, I could amuse myself by thoroughly investigating how celestials differ from my kind."

"You're, ah, not allowed to hurt her."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of _hurting_ her." She kissed her way down his neck.

"I mean it." He frowned, struggling to focus. "I still haven't used my request for defeating you, have I?"

She smiled expectantly. "What unspeakable, deviant acts will you subject your poor servant to?"

"Be kinder to Gabrielle."

"Kinder. _Kinder_?" She pushed off his chest, tossed her hair back, and laughed. "Between the two of us, you're more unkind to her."

He furrowed his brows. "What are you on about?"

Fia tilted her head, sniffed, and smiled predatorily. "Why don't you have a look yourself?"

Her legs coiled like springs, and without warning, she somersaulted off the bed to land deftly on the floor. She dashed toward the door—the _slightly ajar_ door—and ripped it open, revealing a wide-eyed Gabrielle kneeling in the hallway.

With a panicked squeak, Gabrielle scampered backward, fell on her butt, and tugged down her hiked-up nightgown. Fia walked out into the hallway to loom behind her.

"A feeble mortal like yourself will get a cold out here," she said. "The house is drafty, after all. Why don't you join us in our warm bed instead?"

Gabrielle's blush was such that her face practically glowed in the darkness. Her gaze darted around frantically before Fia's words percolated through her mind. "W-what are you saying?"

"You heard my master, did you not? This is me extending kindness toward you."

Fia's fanged smirk was anything but kind, and it seemed to jolt Gabrielle into action. She sprang up and tried to flee, but tripped over her own bare feet. Fia caught her by the elbow before she could fall and whispered into her ear.

Gabrielle struggled a bit, then went still. Emotions cycled over her face as she regarded first Fia, then Harry, then dipped her head and stared at the floor. She did not resist as Fia ushered her into the bedroom.

Harry belatedly pulled the blanket over his crotch. "What the hell are you doing? Let her go!"

Gabrielle glanced at Fia uncertainly, who rolled her eyes before whispering again. Her tail nimbly yanked the door shut behind them.

Gabrielle clenched her nightgown and scuffed the floor with her foot. "Harry, I... I'm sorry. If—if you're okay with me... What she said..."

Fia waited a beat, then sighed. "What the birdie means to say is that she's been peeping on us every chance she got and wishing it was your cock rather than her fingers up her little angelic cunt."

Gabrielle's head shot up. "I... I did not!"

Fia clasped her wrist and lifted it. "Oh? Then what's that on your fingers?"

Gabrielle ducked her head again, red up to her ears.

"You _knew_ she was watching!" Harry accused.

"Of course I did. Not only are my senses superior to a mortal's, but I could also feel the baser desires in her heart from the time we met—and they've been welling up ever since." Fia gave Gabrielle a strangely approving look. "You don't mind if I watch, do you? My master breaking in his first concubine is quite an occasion."

He groaned. "There won't be any _breaking in_. She needs to leave."

Fia arched an eyebrow skeptically before whispering to Gabrielle. The younger woman gaped, then screwed up her face and stooped to grasp the hem of her nightgown. Her trembling hands lifted it an inch, exposing her creamy thighs.

Rolling her eyes, Fia grabbed the shoulder straps of her nightgown and yanked it down in one go. Gabrielle squeaked and clasped an arm over her bare chest, her other hand splayed over the white knickers protecting her modesty.

"No, you're doing it wrong," Fia said patiently, prying her arm away. "Flash a pair of tits at a male, and you'll have them salivating at your feet." She glanced at Harry, then regarded Gabrielle's small pale breasts. "Didn't work? I suppose they aren't much compared to mine."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And it won't." Gabrielle appeared crestfallen, so he added quickly, "It's not that you're unattractive, it's... Look, you're just a girl with a silly crush, and I don't want to take advantage of that."

"I can't say I understand humans' fussiness about these things. A fertile, willing, and"—she ran her eyes over Gabrielle—"not hideous female is throwing herself at you, and instead of pounding her until she's reduced to a drooling mess, you prattle on." She swatted Gabrielle's rear. "Go on and see how long his resolve lasts."

Gabrielle's gaze flicked to Harry before she hesitantly reached down to her knickers. Not meeting his eyes, she shimmied them down her legs and allowed them to fall to the floor. Stepping away, she covered herself shyly. He gulped.

"Look, she even shaved," Fia cooed, nudging her hand away. "I have to say, she's quite a morsel. If you don't want her, perhaps I should take her for myself? Defiling a celestial has a certain appeal to it." The heart-shaped tip of her tail snaked to the junction of Gabrielle's thighs.

"N-no!" Gabrielle pushed it away. "I was saving myself for Harry!"

Fia hugged her around the waist, tan skin contrasting starkly with pale white. "Hear that, master? It would be most _unkind_ of you to refuse to ravish her, would it not?"

He sat up and caught her eye. "Gabrielle, listen... I'm not the hero you think I am. This isn't a fairytale."

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "I understand. I've understood for a while now. I might be young, but I'm not _that_ naive." She smiled timidly and clasped her hands behind her back, baring herself to his gaze. "If you'll have me... I'll settle for just being at your side."

He swallowed and glanced at Fia, searching for the right words.

Gabrielle seemed to understand. "I have confidence in my looks and heritage. In time, I'll s-steal you away from that temptress."

Fia laughed. "Not in another century, but you're welcome to try. Now hop on the bed so we can have our fun at last." She slapped her bare butt.

Squeaking, Gabrielle staggered forward and slumped across Harry's legs. She stammered an apology, clambered off him, and scooted to his side farther away from Fia.

"Um," she said, her cheeks flaming, "please show me what to do."

Fia prowled around the bed to settle beside her and stroked her hair. "Leave everything to us."

Gabrielle's gaze alternated between her and Harry. "But—"

"Shush now." Fia kissed her on the lips, then positioned herself between her slender legs. Taking hold of her knees, she pried them apart.

"W-what are you doing?" Gabrielle tried to push her away, but Fia caught her hand and interlaced their fingers.

"I'm going to loosen you up for him." Fia planted a trail of feathery kisses along Gabrielle's inner thigh. "It is your first time, and he's pretty big."

A shiver ran through her body. "You... don't have to..."

"Do look happier about it," Fia murmured, kissing her way up. "A proud demoness is servicing you."

"Ha-Harry." Gabrielle turned her helpless gaze at him.

"If you don't want it, just say the word." He smirked. "She's pretty good with her tongue, though."

Fia swiped the tip of said tongue up Gabrielle's cleft, making her gasp. "Calling me merely _good_ is an insult. Besides, you're aching to watch me eat her out, aren't you?"

Gabrielle stared at him, to which he just shrugged; there was no need to deny the obvious. The hand she had been trying to pry out of Fia's grasp lost its strength as she exhaled and reclined on the pillows.

Fia's spread Gabrielle's cleft. "Look at you, barely touched yet already sopping wet." She dragged her tongue along her pink petals, eliciting a quiver. Her tail whipped side to side. "Don't tell me no one's done this for you before? Oh, you'll have to wait your turn, master. I might have too much fun with this one."

He settled on his side. "Go wild."

Gabrielle's chin jutted upward as a moan escaped her parted lips. "So... so hot!"

"Demons are like that," he murmured, brushing her hair away so he could admire her expression.

Fia explored Gabrielle with long swipes of her tongue, now and then suckling her tiny clit. Each time, it elicited an involuntary noise of pleasure, which soon started being followed by frustrated groans.

"Poor thing wants it so bad," Fia cooed, replacing her tongue with her fingers. "Don't worry, I'm not cruel like Harry. Fly, little birdie."

Her tongue resumed its dance with renewed vigor. Gabrielle's hand desperately clutched her horn to keep her in place. Fia didn't tease her, giving her everything she wanted and more. It wasn't long before she cried out and arched her lithe hips against Fia's mouth.

Gabrielle sagged on the sheets, but Fia didn't relent. In no time at all, Gabrielle's half-lidded eyes fluttered wide open, then squeezed shut, and with another moan, her face contorted in ecstasy.

"Again?" Harry murmured, entranced.

Fia hummed, her upturned eyes narrowing in satisfaction. Gabrielle's breaths came in ragged gasps, and her head tossed and turned. Whimpering, she tried to nudge Fia away, but the demoness only ventured lower and slipped her tongue between her pink folds.

Gabrielle draped her arm over her eyes, her lips moving in an incoherent protest, or perhaps encouragement. Her chest heaved, her dainty pink nipples erect. Not content with watching, Harry traced his fingers up her belly to squeeze a perky breast. Gasping, she lowered her arm to look at him, and he sidled closer to peck her on the lips.

"She's good, isn't she?" he whispered, indicating Fia with his eyes.

Gabrielle opened her mouth as if to answer, but instead, a stream of French left her lips before another tremor wracked her petite body. Fia held on to her bucking hips and sucked at her clit as she rode out her climax.

Drawing up, Fia smiled at Gabrielle's panting form. "The little hussy is dripping wet and ready for a good dicking."

She prowled over on all fours to kiss Harry. He stiffened in surprise at the foreign taste on her lips before returning the kiss hungrily. Her hands pulled off the blanket and found his erection.

"Someone's excited," she whispered, breaking the kiss. "Aren't you harder than before?"

He broke into a crooked grin. "Jealous?"

"Why would I be? The number of concubines reflects your status. I'll be the shame of Gehenna if word gets out that I'm serving someone who has none." She stroked his cock lightly. "Enough talk. I want to see the celestial's face when you spear her virgin cunt."

He looked into Gabrielle's hazy blue eyes. Lust and hesitation warred within him. Was someone like him worthy of her?

Fia climbed to Gabrielle's other side and nudged her thighs apart. "A gentleman like yourself won't make her beg, surely?"

"Harry." Gabrielle met his eyes and extended her hands toward him. "Come."

His resistance crumbled. He climbed on top of her, peering into her eyes. A rim of sky-blue circling dark round pupils. How long had it been since he looked at a human's eyes up close?

He leaned in and claimed her soft lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as their tongues intertwined. When he pulled up after a long while, she tried to prolong the contact by tilting her neck forward.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

She gave a tiny nod. "Come."

She trembled in anticipation as he reached down to angle himself at her hot, wet entrance. He slipped inside, gasping as her tightness enveloped his crown. Slowly, he went deeper. She winced. He froze, but then her legs wrapped around him, tugging him closer.

"Please," she whispered, "I want to feel you... all of you."

He eased himself inside inch by inch, watching Gabrielle scrunch up her face as he touched her where no one had ever touched before. "God, you feel amazing, Gabby."

Her brows furrowed cutely. "_Gabby_?"

"You don't like it?"

She smiled shyly. "Love it. It'll be my pet name only for you."

Returning the smile, he kissed her. She gasped against his mouth as the motion made him stir inside her.

"You can, um, continue," she whispered, a determined look on her face.

He kissed her again. "I'll be gentle."

He drew his hips back a fraction, then slowly slid into her snug heat. Her eyes widened as though in an epiphany. He eased back and forth with torturous slowness, sinking slightly deeper each time.

"By Lucifer, I'm getting sick from the mawkishness." Lying on her stomach, her chin propped on her elbow, Fia swung her legs. "Can't you give it to her harder? This is _boring._"

"Shut it," he snapped. He brushed a few golden strands of Gabrielle's forehead. "You alright?"

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "_Oui_... It surprised me, how much you filled me, but..."

"Silly thing," Fia murmured, slinking closer. "Relax and enjoy it. There's no reason for it to hurt when you're practically gushing." Leaning in, she licked her ear.

Gabrielle growled and turned her way, but Fia took that as an invitation to kiss her. Abandoning the attempt to chase her off, Gabrielle looked up at him.

"It's alright to go faster... if you want."

He wasn't sure he would've held back for much longer anyway. His rocking gained a gentle but steady rhythm. Gabrielle mewled with every thrust, her inner walls squeezing him.

"_Tu me fais me sentir si bien_," she moaned.

"God, Gabby... You're so tight..."

Fia's tail wound around his tightening ballsack. "Already? I might actually get jealous." Her palm slapped his rear. "Go on, make her walk bow-legged tomorrow."

Gabrielle gasped when the slap made him drive into her harder, then gasped again when Fia's fingers snaked down her belly. When they found the spot they sought, she tightened so much it almost undid him.

Grunting, he pumped into her, no longer holding back, but not going out of his way to be forceful. Gabrielle clung to him, sweet noises escaping her parted lips.

"Harry's about to cum," Fia whispered, stroking her clit in small circles. "His balls are full to bursting, and all of it is going into your little cunt."

"Oh... oh... _oooh_!" Gabrielle's legs locked around his waist, her muscles spasming around him.

"Gabby!" He shuddered as he released into her. Her inner walls milked him while Fia stroked his balls with her tail as if intent on making him deliver on her promise.

Gabrielle panted for her breath. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at him with a look so loving it made his heart flutter. "I feel so warm inside."

He gave a breathless laugh. Sagging over her, he kissed her tenderly. She _was_ too good for him.

"How was it?" Fia toyed idly with Gabrielle's golden locks. "His cock is pretty great, right? As long as you remember that I get to have him first, we'll get along fine."

Gabrielle's dazed eyes regained some sharpness. "You... you ruined it! Sticking your icky claws between us!"

Fia tilted her head. "Did you not enjoy my touch? I saw your eyes roll back in your head."

Her lips moved without a sound for a time. "That's not the point! Love isn't just physical pleasure, it's about... you know, making a deeper connection, and..."

Nodding in understanding, Fia pressed a finger below her navel. "Like when he went this deep inside you?" She cackled as Gabrielle growled and pushed her hand away.

Harry rose off her, and Gabrielle craned her head forward to watch their bodies separate in wonder. He motioned toward his crotch.

"Put that mouth to better use," he told Fia.

"How filthy. Let's get those nasty celestial fluids off you." Scooting over, she laved him with her tongue before popping his cock into her mouth. After an enthusiastic tongue bath, she released him and glanced at Gabrielle. "I do hope you won't command me to do the same to _her_. What a humiliation it would be... Forced to clean up a mere concubine..." In spite of her words, her tail wagged in excitement.

Gabrielle squeezed her legs together and cast the two of them an uncertain glance, her cheeks red.

He chuckled. "Did you develop a taste for angels, or is it that you get off on being forced to service those you claim are beneath you?"

Fia's fangs made an appearance. "She's far beneath me, certainly, but while the blood of our eternal enemies is thin, it still runs in her veins. You humans, on the other hand, are nothing more than cattle."

"Harry's not _cattle_!" Gabrielle piped up.

He laughed, patting Gabrielle's leg as he locked eyes with Fia. "It must titillate your masochistic side to be serving one of those humans, then."

"I only put up with you because you're a decent source of food and amusement. Speaking of..." She rubbed her thighs together. "I recall us being in the middle of something good before we were interrupted."

He sat back and raked a hand through his hair. "Damn, give me a few minutes."

Fia edged up to him, prodded his limp member, and shot a glare toward Gabrielle. "Little tart, you wrung him dry."

"I did?" An inordinately pleased expression came over Gabrielle's face.

"Oh, don't look so full of yourself. You did nothing but lie under him and make noise." Her predatory grin stretched from ear to ear. "Allow me to demonstrate how to rock his world."

Harry yelped as she shoved him in the chest, splaying him on his back. She slunk forward until her crotch hovered over his face, then lowered her hand to rub herself over the darkened fabric, moaning.

"Won't you please taste me?" Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she licked them sensuously. "I'm dripping just imagining it."

"I don't know," he drawled, "you've been acting spoiled."

"If I have, it was only because I was aching for you so badly." She undid the side-ties and peeled off her skimpy panties, a string of her juices stretching between the fabric and her vulva. "Forgive your servant for being a dirty slut."

Swallowing, he glanced up to see a glint of thrill in Fia's eyes. Another one of her little games.

She spread her glistening pussy with two fingers. "This naughty servant is craving your touch, master. Won't you please take mercy?" Her tail snaked around to slip inside. Trembling, she diddled herself before bringing the wet tip to her mouth. "I'm _delicious_, promise."

She wiggled lower, whimpering at his exhalation. It was difficult to resist such an offering. With an impatient noise, he inclined his neck forward and licked her.

Fia moaned, her hand sinking into his hair. Her tail traveled down his stomach until it found his member, and after a few attempts, wrapped around the crown. He groaned.

She ground against his mouth. "Little Fia's sopping wet, isn't she? Imagine how good it will feel to stick your cock inside her."

The cord of her tail coiled around his cock, tightening and loosening, while the slick tip massaged the underside. Harry lapped at her folds, making his way up to her clit. A quiver went through her body, and her hand in his hair clenched painfully.

"Sorry, master," she gasped. "Fia can't wait."

She scooted back and positioned herself above his cock, angling it up with her tail. He felt her juices drip atop his crown before it parted her hot nether lips.

"You're stretching me," she whimpered, sinking. "Stretching me so good."

He didn't feel fully recovered yet, but there was nothing he could do except hold on when she began rocking back and forth, her tail coiled tightly around his root. Her head tilted back in a gasp, her nipples hard peaks on her swaying breasts. Noticing his gaze, she fondled herself.

"Feels so good... but not as good as when you touch me. Please?"

He reached up to knead her breasts, and she leaned in, giving him better access. His thumb brushed a hardened nipple, eliciting a gasp.

"Yes," she breathed. "No one ever touched me as good as you do."

He gently tweaked her nipples, feeling her tighten around him in response. She braced her palms against his chest, her cheeks flushing as her gyrations picked up the pace.

"You're so hard inside me... I'll cum, master..." Her tail constricted around him. "I'm cumming, I'm—_ooh_!"

Her back arched like a bow, her inner muscles clamping. He throbbed, close to the edge himself. She slumped atop him, her breath hot on his neck.

"Forgive this worthless slut... Your cock felt too good." Rocking her hips slightly, she moaned. "I'll strive to please you too, master."

The ends of her crimson hair tickled his chest as she rode him. He panted, looking up at her face. She wore a look of intense concentration.

"Does Fia's wet cunt feel good?"

"Yeah." He ran his hands up her hips. "Feels great."

She beamed at him and adjusted her angle to bounce up and down his shaft. He gritted his teeth; being sheathed within her heat over and over was too intense to handle.

"Don't hold back," she breathed. "Your little whore wants her reward."

His muscles tensed. Fia kept bouncing, her eyes locked with his. His hips jerked upward, and he cried out his release. Fia sank on him, her tail uncoiling to press the tip flat against his pulsing balls.

"Fill my womb, master," she moaned. "Breed me."

She rocked her hips in encouragement until he was spent. Brushing her hair back, she turned to Gabrielle. Harry followed suit, finding her with a hand between her legs. She went still as a statue at the attention.

"And that's how you do it." Even though her voice was throaty, Fia's demeanor was nonchalant. "Whether it's acting innocent or lustful, I can drive him so wild he can't help but rut me like an animal." Glancing down at Harry, she gave him a saucy wink.

Gabrielle belatedly removed her hand from its compromising position and hugged a pillow to herself, her cheeks flaming.

Fia giggled and stuck out her chest. "Don't feel ashamed—you witnessed a demoness at work, after all."

Giving Harry a satisfied smile, she rose off him. Their combined fluids trickled down her thigh; she scooped them up with a finger and popped it into her mouth. Gabrielle goggled.

Sensing her gaze, Fia spread herself shamelessly. "See how much he rewarded me? This proves that I'm more adept at the pleasures of the flesh between us two."

Gabrielle stared before hurriedly averting her gaze. "I... I made him feel plenty good too."

Fia rolled her eyes. "Silly chick, spreading your legs for him isn't enough. Even if you lack my natural gifts, you can do more than that to please him." She licked her lips, eyeing Harry's crotch. "Do you need another demonstration?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, too exhausted to even sit up. "She doesn't."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. If she has the gall to mouth off, she clearly hasn't accepted her position as your second." She reached down to fondle his balls. "Besides, you still have more to give, don't you?"

He groaned and ran a palm over his face. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Peals of her laughter rang in the bedroom. "Surely this much is nothing. I recall you being a lot more ferocious when you tamed me." She bent to run her tongue along his limp cock. "Is it because you exhausted yourself in battle? You should've ripped their hearts out and drank their lifeblood to rejuvenate yourself."

He grimaced. "We don't do that."

"Well then, I suppose it falls to your servant to restore your vigor." Her claws lengthened and gripped his balls as she tapped a finger against her lips. "How did the invocation go, again?"

"What are you—"

The claws dug into his scrotum, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make him freeze. Fia spat out a harsh incantation. Heat surged through his loins, spreading through his limbs, setting his veins ablaze. He jerked up to a seated position, then glanced down incredulously. His cock was back at full mast, veins bulging, crown purple and engorged.

"There," Fia said smugly. "Worked out nicely, didn't it?"

He twitched as she trailed a thankfully clawless finger along his shaft. He was so hard it was almost painful. "Bloody hell... How long will this last?"

"Until I've had enough." She grinned, her gaze fixed on his crotch.

He grasped her chin and glared. "And who allowed you to mess around? Just when I thought you'd become more sensible, you act out again."

"I was merely providing a helping hand." She squirmed under his unrelenting glare. "If it's too much for you to handle, you can always order me to undo it. I'll understand."

He growled and pushed her away; no way was he going to back down after that. "On your hands and knees, slut."

"Are you sure?" She wiggled her arse, leaking cum onto the sheets. "A mortal like you might just break before I'm truly satiated."

"Shut up and lift that ass."

Glancing around, he zeroed in on his wand and the bottle of oil atop the bedside cabinet. His lips quirked up. He crawled over and cast a half-forgotten hygiene spell from the time of Fia's incarceration before putting the wand down. Picking up the bottle, he returned before Fia's invitingly raised ass.

"I'll be disciplining her for a while," he told Gabrielle, who was hugging her pillow and watching with wide eyes. "Feel free to take a shower or whatever."

She squeezed the pillow tighter. "Can... can I stay?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if she gets off on being watched." He leered. "You could even help me out if you want."

Gabrielle's hair whipped her flushed cheeks as she shook her head.

"Having a little girl peep on me does nothing for one of my age and experience," Fia said, the proud words at odds with her current position.

He slapped her ass. "I told you to shut up."

Edging closer, he drove into her cunt. Both of them gasped, Harry feeling weak in the knees as her velvety heat enveloped his oversensitive cock. Breathing heavily, he uncorked the bottle and poured some oil down the crack of her arse. He massaged her sphincter before slipping a finger inside up to the first knuckle.

Her tail whacked his hand. "What are you doing, stupid mortal?"

"This is nothing to one of your experience, surely." He fingered her arse in tandem with the thrusts of his hips, adding more oil to keep her slick. She was clenching around his digit so tightly he wondered if he would ever fit more than one.

"I told you not to play around with that hole!" she exclaimed.

"All your holes belong to me. Take it like a good little whore."

Feeling her loosen up, he worked in another finger. Fia soon slumped face-first on the sheets, moaning, even thrusting her ass back at him. His lips curled into a grin.

Pulling out of her, he poured oil on his slippery cock and tossed the bottle aside. Withdrawing his fingers, he pressed his crown against her puckered sphincter.

Fia's tail went rigid. "Not... not _that_! It won't fit!"

"Sure it will," he grunted, pushing. "A proud demoness like yourself can take it."

"No—it's too big—"

"And whose fault is that?" He spread her ass cheek. "My cock's going inside your arse one way or another. Relax and make it easier on yourself."

Fia's tail drooped. Harry proceeded to push inside, her sphincter so tight he thought he'd go insane. Then the head of his cock slipped through, and Fia clenched so hard he had to pause and catch his breath.

"Good girl," he breathed, kneading her ass. "Halfway there."

Grabbing the base of her tail, he used it as leverage to go deeper. Fia raked the sheets and blubbered while he whispered encouragements until his thighs pressed against her ass.

"Well done," he said. "Now I'm going to fuck your arse, and you're going to enjoy it."

Fia whimpered as he stirred inside her. Laying one hand on her hip, he grasped her twitching tail with the other. Whenever he felt her loosen up, he deepened his strokes, not giving her time to adjust. Her ass squeezed his throbbing cock almost to the point of pain.

It wasn't long before he worked up a steady pace, not going too hard as much out of consideration for her as the intensity of the sensation. Fia's hand found its way to her cunt, and her whimpers became moans. Her tail writhed in his hand trying to escape.

"How's having your every hole claimed by a human?" he growled. "You love it, don't you?"

"Hate it," she moaned, pushing her ass into his thrusts. "Hate you. Pull it out!"

"Not before I finish inside you." He sank his fingers into her hair and tugged. Her back arched, and she clamped on him. "Go on, beg for it."

"N-no... this is wrong... don't you dare finish in there... I can't give you a child if you do..." The fingers between her legs were rubbing frantically.

He sped up, his thighs slapping against her ass. "Don't worry, I'm going to keep fucking all your holes until you can't stand."

Pulling on her hair, he plunged deep into her and came with a guttural grunt. She cried out, her tail snapping into a straight line. He pulsed inside her again and again before pulling out and depositing the last rope of cum across the small of her back.

Fia flopped on the sheets and rolled onto her back with a groan, her chest heaving.

"Are... are you okay?" Gabrielle blurted out.

Fia giggled throatily. "Harry's most fun when he is riled up." She grimaced. "I didn't expect him to get this rough, though. He's been threatening to punish my ass for a while, but he ought to have been more tender."

"It's because you did that strange magic to his... thing."

"Curious about what that monster would feel like? I don't think you could handle it."

Barely listening to the byplay, Harry eyed his still-erect cock. He recalled rumors about a seventh-year back in his Hogwarts days who imbibed too much of a certain potion and had to go to the Hospital Wing for this same problem. Should he have Fia undo the spell?

Then again, she couldn't have done it if it could hurt him, and he had a point to make.

"Enough chatter," he said sternly. "You neglect your duties, Fia. Clean me up, and we'll keep working on adjusting that attitude of yours."


	17. Angel, Part Six

Walking down Knockturn Alley with a woman on each arm filled Harry with a sense of déjà vu. Gabrielle had been clinging to him since morning, so naturally, Fia mimicked her—whether to annoy her or mark her territory, he wasn't sure.

His gaze lingered on Gabrielle's glowing face. She was probably the only witch to look this happy visiting a shithole like Knockturn Alley. Her sparkling blue eyes turned his way, and she beamed. He found himself smiling in response. Thinking of yesterday as a mistake was impossible when she directed that smile at him.

Fia's claws dug into his arm, and he shot her a glare before refocusing on his surroundings. It wouldn't do to get caught in another ambush.

As they neared Seymour's, he marveled at how the damage to the street had all but disappeared. The cobblestones were singed by spellfire, and patches of fresh wood stood out in the repaired walls, not yet coated in grime and soot, but without knowing beforehand, one could've never guessed a fierce battle had taken place here yesterday.

"Stay on your guard," he said, halting before the shop's door. "The man's a coward, but he probably has all sorts of nasty tricks to protect himself."

The girls nodded and let go of his arms. He drew his wand to silence the door before shoving it open. Seymour stood behind the counter, scrutinizing a silver Sickle under a magnifying lens. By the time he looked up, Harry was already halfway toward him. The shopkeeper jerked away, dropping the Sickle, and glanced toward the back of the shop before schooling his pale face into a smile.

"H-how good to see you, Mr. Potter! Word on the street was, you were sent to Azkaban for dabbling in demonology, but I'm glad to see the rumors were unsubstantiated."

Harry leaned on the counter. "Is that why you're running shop like nothing happened? Didn't expect to see me again?"

Seymour wrung his hands. "Please, I had nothing to do with that dreadful business yesterday! My own shop was damaged, if you'll recall!"

Fia sashayed up to them. "He lies."

Seymour gaped like a fish, his rheumy gaze alternating between her and Harry. His shoulders drooped. "Those men, they told me to clear the backyard and make myself scarce when you came in. Threatened to burn down the building otherwise." He withdrew his handkerchief and wiped his brow. "I don't know who sent them, I swear."

Fia clicked her tongue. "Bah, he's telling the truth... Can we kill him anyway?"

Harry assumed a thoughtful expression.

"I had no other choice!" Seymour quivered and inched away. "There were five of them, and I can barely muster a Shield Charm! I'll—I'll repay you, just say the word!"

Harry fixed him with a stony stare. "My order. Did you procure the goods, or was that a lie to lure us here?"

"Yes—yes, of course I did!" Brightening, Seymour turned and scampered into the back. "Just a minute, please, Mr. Potter!"

As the shopkeeper retreated between the shadowy shelves, Harry fingered his wand below the counter. Should there be any more funny business, he would be prepared.

Fia made a disgusted noise. "That's it? Aren't you going to demand reparations? Or make him grovel, at the very least?"

"I might need his services in the future," he said in an undertone, "and it's always nice to have someone owe you."

"_Ooh_, I see," Gabrielle muttered.

Not a minute later, Seymour returned clutching a string-tied package that he laid reverently on the counter. "Got everything you asked, sir, right here."

"I'll just check to make sure if you don't mind." Harry began untying the package.

"I would never dare cheat—that is to say, go ahead." Seymour stepped back and took a deep breath. His hands trembled. "Will this... suffice, Mr. Potter?"

"If you give me what I paid for, I've no further quarrel with you," he said, lifting his gaze. "In return, I would appreciate a warning should you hear about any more 'dreadful business' coming my way. An owl will do."

"Ce-certainly!" Tears pooled at the corners of Seymour's eyes as he clasped Harry's hand in both of his. "Bless you, Mr. Potter, bless you! I knew you were a good man, but to show such graciousness after—"

"No need for that, now. Not really my thing." Prying his hand out of the clammy grip, Harry jabbed his thumb at Fia. "_She's _still plenty pissed at you, though."

Without skipping a beat, Seymour grasped Fia's hand and bowed over it. "Noble mistress! Gallant vision of beauty! Please forgive my pathetic self for allowing you to come to harm because of my weakness!"

"Not bad." Fia smiled appreciatively. "Kneel and beg for mercy, worm."

While she had the time of her life tormenting Seymour, Harry borrowed the magnifying lens and checked the contents of the package. Viewed through the enchanted glass, the items glowed with distinct auras that appeared genuine. He tied the package up and deposited it into his robes, then snorted at the sight of Seymour prostrating himself before Fia.

"Alright, let's go."

"Aww, already?" Fia dug her heel into the back of a sniveling Seymour's head. "I haven't even made him kiss my feet yet! And she didn't get a go either." She gestured at Gabrielle, who hovered uncertainly nearby.

Seymour glanced toward the younger woman and crawled her way, almost scraping the floor with his nose. Fia's heel slipped off his head to jab between his shoulder blades.

Gabrielle squeaked and stepped away. "I don't want a go!" She schooled her face into a stern expression. "You did a very bad thing, Mr. Seymour, luring us into an ambush like that. We could've been seriously hurt. Please promise not to do that again."

"I won't, young lady, I swear," the man sniveled, bowing his head over and over.

Gabrielle nodded. "That's that, then. You can step off him... Fia. It's not nice to bully a person after they apologized."

Fia's jaw went slack before she laughed. "Keep to your promise, worm, and I _might_ refrain from ripping your spine out through your throat the next time we meet." She lifted her foot off Seymour, and slinging an arm around Gabrielle's waist, led her outside. "Now, when did I allow you to use that name, little birdie? I'll forgive you this once, but only because you didn't know any better. If you must speak to me, address me as mistress..."

Harry chuckled, waved goodbye to Seymour, and followed the girls out the door.

* * *

After Apparating home, he immediately set about preparing the ritual: there was no point in delaying, and he would feel much safer once the house was protected from hellish intruders. While he cleared the basement and laid out the ingredients on a worktable, the girls perched on the staircase to watch. Fia stuck her long legs out through the balustrade and swung them, while Gabrielle leaned on the handrails.

"Um... what's hell like?" Gabrielle asked quietly. "Is it really a place where sinners go after death?"

"Only those who sold their souls to us," Fia said, giving her a sidelong look. "Most humans who deal with our kind eventually end up there."

"And do you really..." She gulped. "Torture them? For all eternity?"

"Sometimes. They are our slaves, soldiers, playthings—even currency. Most mortal souls are weak and aren't worth much. When we get someone like Harry, it's a cause to celebrate."

He glanced up. "Reckon life down there will be pretty boring for the foreseeable future, then."

Fia ran her tongue over her protruding fangs. "By mortal measure, perhaps. Our plots and schemes span centuries, and we rarely fail to get our hands on what we desire."

"Harry, I don't understand," Gabrielle said. "Fia calls you master, yet openly talks about stealing your soul. How can you put up with this?"

Fia answered in his stead, slowly as if she were talking to a child. "I won't serve a weakling—which he would be if he were defeated by his own servant. Also, I thought I told you to address me as befits your position?"

Gabrielle huffed. "I'll go back to calling you a demon slattern if you prefer."

"Watch that mouth or I might just show you a thing or two I learned from our torture masters."

"No harming her," he reminded, narrowing his eyes at Fia. "Now be quiet, I'm about to begin."

Fia stuck her tongue out at him in a manner unbefitting a century-old demon. He stared at her, silently daring her to speak, but she remained quiet. Sighing, he laid his wand atop his palm.

"Point me."

The wand rotated until its tip pointed north. Swiveling on the spot, he mentally assigned a cardinal direction to each corner of the basement. They didn't match perfectly, and the deviation would weaken the wards, but they should remain strong enough to bar entry to any demon with a reason to break into his house.

He plucked a tiny bell off the worktable and strode into the east corner. His palm tingled slightly. Cast from a melted-down church bell, the bauble held an echo of the belief of the faithful.

"Spirit of Air, flow freely bringing life and inspiration." A tap of his wand liquefied the support beam, and he pushed the bell inside. Another tap restored the beam to its solid state.

He next walked south, detouring to the table to pick up the next ingredient: a feather of a veela from her first molting.

"Mine were nicer," Gabrielle murmured, then clamped her palm over her mouth.

"Spirit of Fire, unleash your anger on all who would wish us harm." He sank the feather into the southern beam.

A vial of holy water was next, brought north. "Spirit of Water, cleanse this place of evil." Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Fia squirm.

Lastly, a sachet of blessed salt. "Mother Earth, strengthen this dwelling to withstand any assault."

He strolled back into the center of the basement, lifted his wand, and proclaimed, "By my will, guard this house forevermore!"

Wind kicked up dust around his feet, and the oil lamps burned brighter; he heard a distant rush of a waterfall, so fleetingly he thought he might've imagined it. Then everything returned to normal, and the basement was again but a bleak room filled with torture implements.

He exhaled, put his wand away, and studied a parchment filled to the edges with foreign glyphs. Now came Fia's modification.

He uncorked a vial of a Blood-Replenishing Potion he had prepared beforehand, downed it, then picked up a Blood Brush: the big brother of the Blood Quill. Fia had suggested cutting himself with a dagger and painting with his fingers, but he couldn't see a reason not to make use of wizarding world's brilliant innovations in bloodletting.

Brush and parchment in hand, he walked up to the wall. His first stroke left a thick weeping line and splattered crimson droplets on the floor. Grimacing, he reduced the pressure, and the next line came out almost perfect. Once the rough, sharp-angled glyph was complete, it flashed and vanished, only leaving a coppery tang in the air.

Consulting the parchment, he sidestepped and painted the next symbol. The palm holding the brush prickled, but it was far from painful. After he finished the second glyph, he sent the pale-faced Gabrielle a reassuring smile. Fia rolled her eyes and motioned him to continue, not looking the slightest bit concerned.

By the time he finished the first wall, the earlier prickling felt more like barbed wire dragging across his skin. His hand grew numb and so ashen it was almost bluish. He eyed the parchment, struggling to remember where he left off. Right, the wonky spiked circle.

His motions were now more confident, and the second wall took him less time than the first. Yet while the resulting lines and curves were more accurate, the simple act of lifting the brush was becoming harder and harder.

His heart fluttered in his chest as he trudged resolutely to the third wall. When he touched the bristles to the wall, the brush nearly slipped from his fingers, and he swore under his breath before steadying it with his other hand. Sketching an awry glyph, which took its time before fading, he squinted at the parchment. The symbols swam before his eyes.

"_Shrrax_ is next," a voice called. "Finish it soon or the backlash will burst every vein in your body."

He shook his head, which only made the spinning worse, before painstakingly tracing out a gnarled axe-like symbol, his nose almost touching the lines. He swayed and caught himself on the wall, hearing an alarmed exclamation.

Gritting his teeth, he lifted the brush again. His hand trembled. _Come on, Potter._ The line drawn by the bristles was thin as if his veins were drying up. He had to keep going, or... bad things would happen. Someone said they would. Keep drawing. Keep drawing. Keep drawing. Keep—

He lowered his gaze from a vanishing glyph to the parchment in his hand and blinked. Bringing the schematic up to his face, he squinted at the bottom.

"I'm _done_," he whispered, looking up. "I'm—"

The brush slid from his fingers. The world fell sideways, and the floor came up to meet him.

* * *

A burning wasteland with overhanging sulfuric clouds plagued Harry's dreams. With dogged effort, he clawed his way to consciousness. His eyes cracked open to see the white ceiling of the master bedroom. The sheets clung to his clammy skin, and his mouth was parched as if he had truly taken a stroll through his feverish dreamscape.

Groaning, he closed his eyes and racked his brain. Light was filtering through the blinds, so he must've slept for over twelve hours—if passing out from blood loss qualified as sleeping. It had almost felt like the ritual was drawing more than just blood from him, but that was a question for later.

For now... yes. A shower was in order.

He washed up in the en-suite bathroom, and marginally refreshed, trudged downstairs. Melly popped in as he stepped over the threshold of the kitchen and proceeded to fuss about him. It was already time for lunch, and since he had skipped breakfast, she wouldn't let him leave the table until he polished off a plate laden with rashers, eggs, mushrooms, beans, and toast. At first, he hadn't felt hungry, but once he started eating, his appetite returned with a vengeance.

"Where are the girls?" he asked, wiping the plate with the remainder of his toast. On one hand, the peace and quiet were nice; on the other, he expected Gabrielle, at least, to show some concern for his health.

Melly didn't look him in the eye. "Sir's ladies were having an argument in the guest bedroom."

"Again?" He strained his ears but didn't hear a thing. "Well, the house is still standing, so it couldn't have been that bad."

He savored an invigorating cup of tea, thanked Melly, and climbed up the stairs. Pausing outside the door to the guest bedroom, he tilted his head at the odd noises coming from inside before knocking lightly.

"Come in!" called Fia's muffled voice.

He entered, only to halt in his tracks. Gabrielle lay spread-eagle on the bed, naked, each limb tied to a bedpost. Fia leisurely rolled her rosy nipple between her thumb and forefinger, the tip of her tail caressing between her legs. There was a tinge of pink to Gabrielle's sweaty skin, which only intensified when her teary eyes took in his arrival. As she thrashed against her bonds, her back arched to reveal small, but fully formed wings extending from her shoulder blades.

Perched on the edge of the bed, Fia gave him a fanged grin. "Fascinating, is it not? The attributes of an angel and carnality to rival ours... Her tribe adapted to living among humans in an amusing way." She pressed the tip of her tail flat against Gabrielle's wet pussy and rubbed. "Unfortunately, she won't transform further no matter how much I toy with her."

Gabrielle made a noise through a bundle of fabric in her mouth and struggled, but her talons failed to reach the ropes binding her wrists. Her modest breasts heaved as she gave him a pleading look. Her features were sharper, more mature, and he could've sworn her splayed-out hair had a glow to it.

Shaking off his shock, he stalked up to Fia and grabbed her horn. "I _told_ you—I told you so many times not to harm her!"

Fia's smile didn't waver. "Please, she won't be harmed by denying her release for a few hours—a punishment, if you'll recall, you inflicted on me. Were I out to hurt her, she would be leaking a different fluid."

He pushed her away. "_Why_? I even asked you to be nicer..." He cringed at his beseeching tone. The failing was his: rather than trust Fia, he ought to have bound her by orders she wouldn't be able to weasel out of.

"It's different now that you've taken her as a concubine," she said matter-of-factly. "The tart kept mouthing off, so I'm disciplining her as her superior. It's nothing the lord of the castle should be concerned about."

He threw up his arms. "For the last time, she isn't my _concubine_!"

"Call her whatever you want," she said, giving him an unconvinced look. "Establishing a hierarchy is essential for an orderly ménage. If I allow your very first concubine to ride roughshod over me, imagine the chaos when you get more."

"There won't _be _any more," he said exasperatedly. Gabrielle gave a muffled moan and arched her hips. "Stop tormenting her already! Sorry, Gabby, just a moment." He swatted Fia's tail aside, causing the younger girl to groan through the gag.

"Are you sure?" Fia purred. "As cute as the birdie admittedly is, I would prefer fresh playthings every once in a while."

He growled as he tugged the gag out of Gabrielle's mouth. As it unfurled from his pinched fingers, he discovered that it was a very damp pair of knickers. Scowling, he chucked them at Fia.

Gabrielle coughed. "Ha-Harry..."

"I'm sorry." He fumbled with the rope around her wrist.

"Harry... Harry... _quick_..."

"Yes, right away. Hang in there." Abandoning his attempts to untie the knot, he went for his wand and cut through with a gentle Severing Charm.

Gabrielle's taloned hand tore through the air, making him fall back with a yelp. Sticking a nail under the rope around her other wrist, she slashed it, then sat up and made short work of the ropes around her ankles. Panting, she rose into a shameless crouch. Her blue eyes glowed with an inner light as they considered Fia, dismissed her, and centered on him.

"_Harry_."

"I'm sor—"

Her dainty wings flapped furiously as she pounced and wrapped her limbs around him, sending him staggering back. Strips of fabric flew as her talons tore at his clothes, grazing his skin.

"Oi! C-calm down—"

Their noses collided as her lips mashed to his. Her teeth nipped his lower lip and her small tongue whisked over it. Shocked into stillness, he missed Fia sneaking behind him and jerked when she unceremoniously yanked down his trousers and underwear.

"_Haaarry_," Gabrielle keened as she embraced him, smushing her perky breasts against his chest.

As if of their own volition, his hands rose to grab her pert ass and hold her up. Hugging him around the shoulders, she ground against him. Her face was flushed and her eyes were peering straight into his yet somehow not seeing him.

"Gabrielle." His breath hitched when her hot wet slit brushed his erection. "Ah, snap out of it."

"She went _on and on_," she moaned. "Please, I need you..."

Watching raptly from beside them, Fia cackled. "I don't think you'll get through with words. Why don't you use this fine tool instead?"

She slipped a hand between their stomachs and groped for his cock. Her words must've gotten through to Gabrielle because she braced her palms against his shoulders and rose slightly. The moment Fia angled his cock at her entrance, she slammed down with a triumphant cry.

Her liquid heat melted every last bit of his resistance. He hooked his elbows under her knees to give her the leverage she craved, and she bounced desperately atop him, her feathery wings flapping.

"All that scolding, yet here you are rutting like animals," Fia drawled, circling them. "Admit it, you only freed her because you wanted to have your turn."

He had trouble remaining upright, never mind mustering a retort, so he settled for a low growl.

Laughing, Fia traipsed off to the bedside cabinet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her retrieve the bottle of massage oil and pour some into her palm. Returning, she pressed up to Gabrielle's back.

"Look at her go! A bit of teasing was all it took to bring out her true nature." Fia's oil-slicked fingers fondled Harry's balls before rising to Gabrielle's ass. "Makes me want to partake."

Gabrielle's inner muscles clenched as Fia's finger slipped into her ass. Squeaking, she glanced back.

"Don't you worry, I'll be gentle," Fia crooned. "Unlike a certain someone when he ravaged _my_ arse."

"Ah," Gabrielle breathed, "n-not there..."

"Relax," Fia chided, "or I'll pry you off him and we'll return to our game."

Gabrielle worried her lip and squirmed. Fia fingered her arse, whispering in French into her flushed ear until she released a trembling sigh and sagged a fraction.

"That's better. Now fuck yourself on his cock and my fingers." Fia reinforced the command with a slap at Gabrielle's ass cheek.

Gabrielle gasped and rode him, albeit not as vigorously as before. Her screwed-up face glowed a brilliant crimson.

"Faster, birdie, or you won't get him off." Fia landed another spank.

Gabrielle's chest heaved. "Feels... weird."

"Then shut up and feel it."

The tip of Fia's tail whipped up and slipped between her parted lips. Gabrielle's eyes widened and she made a muffled noise. Fia shivered and hugged her around the waist, plunging the tail deeper into her mouth.

Grunting impatiently at her stillness, Harry held her tighter and began thrusting. Gabrielle gave a stifled moan, and the tail popped out, a trail of saliva connecting it to her mouth.

Fia brought it down to Gabrielle's ass. "In it goes... Relax, it's nice and slippery."

Gabrielle's eyes popped out, and she lifted herself an inch, but there was no escape. Harry groaned as he felt the intrusion through her inner walls. Her protests dissolved into gasps as her virgin ass was stretched inch by inch.

"I apologize for butting in," Fia said, rather breathlessly, "but now we can have fun together."

"Get... get it out!" Gabrielle whimpered as Fia kneaded her firm arse. "It's too big!"

"A male would be happy with that, but I prefer to think of my tail as elegant," Fia said. "And I couldn't get it out even if I wanted to. Your naughty little asshole doesn't want to let go."

"Not... true!" Gabrielle clung to Harry to get farther away, clenching around his cock all the while.

"You know it is," Fia whispered, raking her fingers through the white feathers of her wings. "You're aching to be _fucked_ until you get that sweet release you were denied so long. Well, you're in luck. Let go and enjoy it."

"I..." Gabrielle drew a shuddering breath. "Harry..."

He kissed her on the lips. "Shh. It's alright." He worked his hips. "This is what you wanted, right?"

Her lips barely moved. "_Oui_..."

"There you go," Fia whispered. "Let's fuck the little birdie's brains out."

To his lust-addled mind, that sounded like a splendid idea indeed. With Fia sharing Gabrielle's weight, he pumped steadily into her wet heat. Gabrielle's legs locked around his waist as her mouth formed an O.

"_So_ tight," Fia moaned. Harry could feel her tail stir inside. "You should plunder this hole next, master."

She lowered her mouth to Gabrielle's slender shoulder and grazed her fangs against the flushed skin. Gabrielle's head tilted back, giving Harry access to suckle her neck. She babbled in French, her breathing as ragged as his own. Feeling himself approach the edge, he went faster.

"Like my tail, strumpet?" Fia's voice was husky. "Like how it stretches your ass? Want me to fuck you like Harry is?"

He gritted his teeth at the added sensation of Fia's tail pumping inside. Gabrielle's eyes rolled back and her mouth gaped in a breathless cry as her inner walls contracted. Seeing white, he buried himself to the hilt and roared his release. His legs quivered with each eruption, and he only remained upright thanks to Fia.

Gabrielle went slack in their arms, and her head slumped to his shoulder. As he caught his breath, he began fearing she had fainted, but once Fia pulled her tail out, she stirred and uttered something in French that sounded like profanity.

Fia giggled throatily and planted a kiss on her jaw. "Don't tell me you're done already. There's plenty more where that came from."


	18. Hell, Part One

Harry was only distracted by a glitzy storefront for a moment, but it was enough for the girls to wander off. Standing on tiptoes, he scanned the crowd for Fiamette's distinctive fascinator and elbowed his way toward her. A man in a sweater and an oversized scarf bumped into him, crushing the countless shopping bags on his arms.

"_Pardon_," the man sniffed, and strode off without a backward glance.

Glaring at his retreating back, Harry hugged the bags to his chest and squeezed through to the girls, who had paused before another display window.

"This outfit is so cute," Gabrielle gushed, peering at a mannequin clad in a pinstriped top and a pleated pink skirt.

"Hmph, too mundane." Fiamette eyed a black dress with a puffy lace skirt that was almost see-through. "I prefer this one; it confers a queenly image."

Gabrielle pursed her lips. "It's a little gloomy. Have you considered green? With your hair, it would look absolutely striking."

Fia ran her fingers through her mid-back-length locks, looking pleased. "You think so?"

"Let's try them on!" Gabrielle glanced to where Harry was hovering behind them with sparkling eyes. "Can we go in here too? It'll only be a minute!"

"Sure," Harry answered before he could stop himself. Looking at him with those puppy eyes wasn't fair.

Fia observed the exchange with amusement. "Not bad, little birdie." Linking her arm with Gabrielle's, she strutted in through the revolving door.

Harry sighed and followed. A clerk appraised their trio, her gaze lingering on the bags dangling from his arms, and smiled a smile worthy of a demoness. Rushing up to them, she engaged Gabrielle in conversation, while Fia scrutinized the offerings on the mannequins and racks.

"A place worthy of my time," she declared. "Your ancestors were wiser than I gave them credit for, to settle in this country."

Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder as she was ushered deeper into the store. "Thanks, I think."

"Britain's got good clothes shops too," Harry muttered. Not that he knew the first thing about fashion, but as a red-blooded Brit, he would never admit to French being superior in anything.

The women—including the clerk—fixed him with pitying looks. Outnumbered, he raised his hands in mock capitulation and resigned himself to yet another long wait. Gabrielle and Fiamette flitted around, exclaiming over one garment or another and occasionally asking him for his input. He soldiered on valiantly, but after a dozen of outfits, his answers deteriorated to monosyllabic grunts.

Gabrielle finally picked something out, and draping her choices over her arm, ducked into a changing booth. After a minute or two, she stuck her head through the curtains, called him over, and shyly spread them apart. She wore the black-and-white striped top and pink skirt with a bow that had caught her eye earlier. A small beret topped her head of golden hair.

"What do you think?" she asked, swiveling side to side so the skirt swished around her pale legs.

"It's cute," he said honestly.

Gabrielle frowned in thought. "You know what," she said, looking down at herself, "I don't think this is my shade of pink."

With superhuman effort, Harry suppressed a groan.

While Gabrielle retreated between clothes racks, Fia's long-fingered hand slipped out from the next changing booth and beckoned him over. He traipsed closer, only to halt in his tracks. She had slipped into a long-sleeved, ankle-length emerald gown with see-through lace ornaments that felt almost magical despite its Muggle origins.

The fabric flowed around her as she spun in place. "You may fawn over me."

"It's..." He swallowed. She looked like a princess—a princess of hell, but still. "Nice."

"Your eloquence astounds me." She stooped to pinch the fabric of the skirt. "It's difficult to move around in something this long, however. Ideally, it would be... oh, around this high?"

She lifted the hemline of the dress above her knees, then her thighs, not stopping until she bared herself up to the waist, her tail swinging in the gap between her tan legs. His jaw sagged; _she wasn't wearing underwear_. Sputtering, he yanked the curtains shut and glanced around to see if anyone had been looking.

Fia laughed. "How about it? Does the green look good with my hair?"

"Give me a break," he said, his lips nevertheless stretching into a grin.

An eternity later, and with three more bags encumbering him, they at last left the shop. Pausing a small ways outside, Fia linked her hands and stretched them high in the air, then hurriedly steadied the fascinator perched atop her horns. Wizarding world was one thing, but exposing those to Muggles would no doubt result in unwanted curiosity, if not an outright commotion.

"I require sustenance," she proclaimed. "Bring me to the best ice cream parlor around these parts."

Harry perked up. "I'm kinda hungry too. How about we Portkey back and pop over to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Nonsense," Fia shot over her shoulder. "We're not done outfitting ourselves."

He groaned and lifted the bags demonstratively.

"You _promised_, Harry," Gabrielle said, clinging to his arm.

Grumbling under his breath, he nodded his acquiescence. She squealed happily and rose on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. Against himself, his expression cleared.

Fia snorted. "Next time I want something, I too shall bat my eyelashes and thrust my tits at you."

"I _wasn't_..." Blushing, Gabrielle swallowed back her words and detached herself from his arm.

"It wouldn't work," he said dryly. "I'd know it was just an act."

"And that was not? The birdie's more devious than you think." Fixing Gabrielle with an approving look, she strutted up to her and interlinked their arms. "How about that ice cream? Then we can spend the evening shopping for lingerie. Harry won't mind us staying a while longer for that, I'm sure."

Gabrielle sent him a coy glance before contemplating the street. "I think I remember a nice coffee shop just around the corner. Their crème brûlée is divine!"

"I should hope not," Fia said. "Anything containing heavenly energies is bound to give me indigestion."

Gabrielle giggled. "Allow me to rephrase: it tastes devilishly good."

A bulge formed under the back of Fia's blouse as her tail wagged. "In that case, let us proceed."

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry trailed at their heels. When he promised to accompany the girls on a shopping trip to Paris, he hadn't expected the two of them to get along so well. It was a welcome change from their constant bickering, but it also meant they presented a united front every time he voiced his desire to go home already. As he glanced around for a secluded spot to duck into and shrink his bags, he found himself wishing something would happen to cut their trip short.

The first sign of something untoward was the crowd surging away from the crossroads they were heading toward. The Muggles kept glancing over their shoulders as they fled, their expressions agitated and their voices uneasy. Then screams echoed ahead, and Harry recalled the old adage that one should be careful what one wished for.

"What's going on?" Gabrielle said, swiveling about. Beside her, Fia stood on her tiptoes and sniffed the air.

Harry caught up to them. "Whatever it is, it's not our problem. Let's just Portkey home and..." He stared ahead, where above the panicked crowd, a multitude of winged red figures hovered. "What the hell are those?"

"Those are imps," Fia said, her eyes narrowing. "Minor demons to be sure, but against powerless cattle, even they prove a formidable force."

Terror spread swiftly, and the surrounding crowd broke into a stampede. Gabrielle squeaked and scooted behind Fia, who stood firm like a rock in a stormy sea, the terrified Muggles bumping off her and yelling incoherently. A well-dressed woman who appeared calmer than most caught Harry's eye; she fished a wand out of her handbag, regarded the approaching gaggle of imps, then spun on her heel and vanished on the spot.

"I take it imps wreaking havoc in our world isn't a regular occurrence." Harry surreptitiously waved his wand in a Muggle-Repelling Charm, causing the stampeding crowd to part and stream past them.

Fia graced him with a fanged smile. "It is as you suspect. Someone prepared a grand welcome for us."

The imps neared. They numbered several dozen and were reminiscent of red-skinned house-elves with cruel faces and bat wings on their backs. As they chortled and waved their grubby fingers, the Muggles below screamed and ran, occasionally glancing back, their glassy eyes passing over the creatures without seeing them.

Gabrielle clutched Fia's arm fearfully. Fiamette gave her a confused look before rolling her eyes.

"It's only an illusion," she said. "The imps pour fear into their hearts until that's all they can feel. Once the cattle come to their senses, they will return to their stupid pointless lives as if nothing had happened."

"They're not _cattle_," Gabrielle said, but she appeared relieved.

The streets swiftly cleared. The imps spread out to surround the trio in a wide circle, chattering in an incomprehensible language and mooning them rudely. Some wandered off to vandalize the store displays and street signs. A pair alighted atop a cafe parasol and proceeded to copulate noisily. Each had a tiny scarlet crystal tied somewhere to their bodies.

After the initial surprise wore off, Harry followed Fia's example and ignored them, instead scanning the deserted crossroads ahead with his wand at the ready. If these were but pests, then the real threat lurked elsewhere.

Fia was the first to whirl around at the empty street behind—except it was no longer empty. A curvy dark-skinned woman in skimpy leathers approached, flanked by vicious hellhounds as tall as her waist, their bristly hides steaming in the late afternoon air. Harry stepped in front of Gabrielle protectively.

"Nuri!" Fia exclaimed happily. "Long time no see! Did you come to show off your pets?" She glanced at Gabrielle and smirked. "I'm afraid I have the upper hand in that regard."

Nuriye paused a dozen paces away and sized up Harry and Gabrielle with her yellowish eyes. The hellhounds at her sides raised their hackles and growled, and she patted their heads. "Sister, come with me."

"Hmm, what to do." Fiamette tapped a finger against her lips in mock consideration. "I don't think I will. You interrupted us in the middle of shopping, you know."

"I do. It's how I knew to lay in ambush here. Your habits make you predictable." Nuriye narrowed her eyes. "I'm taking you back whether you agree to it or not."

"Really now? How did that human phrase go again..." Stepping forward, Fia grinned ear-to-ear. "You and what army?"

Nuriye's face clouded, and she smacked her leather-wrapped fists together. "Your skills no doubt declined while you fooled around in this plane. I alone should be enough."

"Little Nuri thinks she can best _me_? Oh, you're on, sister." She rolled her shoulders, her tail emerging from under her blouse and her wings bulging underneath before ripping through.

Harry held her back by the shoulder. "Fia—"

"Don't fret," she said, ducking out of his grip, "it'll only take me a minute to teach her to respect her elders. You can handle the hounds—just grab them by the scruff and shake them to show you're stronger."

He heaved an exasperated sigh. "Stay vigilant. She must have a plan of some sort."

With an over-the-shoulder wave, Fia pranced off to meet her sister. He cast a wary gaze at the surroundings imps, but they were busy trashing the street. Then claws scraped the pavement, and he whipped back to the hellhounds, who launched themselves toward him and Gabrielle.

He brandished his wand, and jagged spikes burst out of the pavement before them. One hellhound skidded into a turn, while the other sprang into a flying leap, its toothy jaw opening in a snarl. Jabbing his wand at its belly, he tossed the beast back with a pulse of force.

The first hellhound raced around the spikes and pounced at Gabrielle, but bounced off her shimmering spherical shield. Shaking its head, it retreated a few steps and opened its maw to belch out a torrent of crimson flames. Hers and Harry's wands moved in an identical gesture, and the flames washed over them without doing any harm.

Blinded by the blaze, he wasn't prepared for the second hellhound crashing into him with the force of a lorry. He collapsed on his back, his wand clattering to the ground, and yowled as fierce claws shredded his forearm. He punched blindly; something cracked under his fist, and with a whimper, the beast rolled off him.

The torrent of flames receded, and he came face-to-snout with a furious hellhound. Its powerful hindquarters coiled, and it sprang at him once more.

He turned with its leap, caught it by the scruff, and slammed it into the ground. The beast snarled and snapped at him, but Harry sat astride it and pressed its head down with his elbow.

The hellhound whined and went limp. Harry let up warily. The beast crawled away, gave him a backward glance, and limped off with its spiky tail tucked between its legs. He blinked in surprise—who knew Fia could give good advice—before turning to Gabrielle.

"Bad dog," she said, wagging a finger at the second hellhound that was circling her warily. A ball of brilliant white flames crackled above her other palm. "No spitting fire!"

The beast bared its fangs and stepped closer, but she lifted her blazing palm, and it hesitated. Harry came up to her. The hellhound's gaze flicked to him, and it gave a low growl. An answering growl rose deep from within his chest, and he met its burning red eyes squarely.

The hellhound recoiled with a whimper and scampered off. A mock ovation came from the imps. Harry flipped them the bird, which only made their gabble louder, and scanned the street for Fia.

Broken chairs and tables from an outdoor café littered the pavement. Amid the debris, a flush-faced Nuriye lay prone, her wings fanned out, Fia holding her in a chokehold.

Noticing him looking, Fia puffed out her chest. "Ha! You're a hundred years early to bare your fangs at me, sis."

Keeping an eye on the surroundings, Harry strolled up to her with Gabrielle in tow. "Well done."

"It's nothing for one of my skill." Her tone was dismissive, but her tail wagged proudly. "Now help me give her the spanking she so richly deserves."

Reaching down with one hand, she tugged off her sister's leather bottoms and slapped her curvy arse. Nuriye made an involuntary noise and thrashed around until Fia tightened her hold, making her sag to the ground. Gabrielle squeaked and covered her eyes.

Harry's lips twitched in amusement. "I'm not sure it's my place to interfere in a family squabble. Tell you what, though, I'll lend you my basement if you want."

"Hear that, Nuri?" Fia leaned in to lick her sister's ear playfully. "I'll instill proper respect into you, whatever it takes." She intertwined their tails. "Oh, we're going to have _so_ much fun together."

"That's all I ever wanted," Nuriye choked out. "To have my sister back."

Fia's expression softened, and she loosened her chokehold. "You utter blockhead! I keep telling you, my mind's not under—"

"I'll bring you back to your senses, one way or another," Nuriye said darkly. Wheezing in a breath, she yelled, "_Zaphrex_!"

All at once, the crystals carried by the imps flared scarlet. Harry lifted his wand, but his arm sagged under its own weight; he felt like he suddenly weighed a ton. Grunting, he collapsed to one knee. Behind him, Gabrielle gave a muffled scream.

Drawing on his inner flame, he lifted his head an inch, but the scarlet light around them thickened into a mist, bearing down on him, suffocating. A chorus of cackles rang out from the imps. He braced his palms against the ground, only his boosted strength preventing him from being crushed face-first into the pavement.

Nuriye pushed off the similarly afflicted Fiamette and pinned her to the ground. A scarlet crystal on a chain slid out from under her leather top, glowing softly.

Fia's mouth contorted into a strained sneer. "You blithering idiot. Whose power did you borrow?"

Nuriye stroked her cheek. "You will thank me soon, you'll see. And then it'll be just like old times." Her expression was affectionate as she spoke, but the moment she lifted her gaze to Harry, her face twisted. Springing to her feet, she stomped over, gripped his collar, and flung him beside Fia. "I have them, your grace!"

The impact with the pavement drove the air from his lungs. Inhaling laboriously, he turned his head toward Fiamette. She moved her lips, but he couldn't make out the words. Her sculpted legs tensed in preparation as she drew short, rapid breaths.

The pavement under them abruptly vanished, and they plummeted into a hall of glimmering obsidian, scorching wind rippling their clothes. Fia's fangs flashed in a snarl, her wings whipping out to slow her fall; bringing her knees to her chest, she kicked him mightily. He felt his sternum crack as he soared back through the portal, into the cool Parisian air, and onto the pavement. The imps tore past him, jostling and screeching, to dive into the shrinking portal before it squelched shut.

He pushed himself into a seated position, wheezed in a breath, and clutched his chest when the pain nearly made him black out. Something was moving in there that wasn't meant to.

"Harry!" Gabrielle staggered up to him, her dress dirtied and her knees bruised. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." He grimaced at her unconvinced look. "Well, I _will_ be after a dose of Skele-Gro or two."

He looked around for his wand, and she summoned it for him without a word. Aiming at his chest, he numbed the pain and immobilized his ribcage, then rose to his feet with a groan. The street looked as if a gang of football hooligans had rampaged through it. Of the portal, only a stench of brimstone remained.

Shuffling over to where it had opened, he scuffed the pavement with his shoe, then crouched and raked his fingers above it. "_Agrast._" No, that didn't sound quite right. "_Dararast_... _shkleist_?"

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked.

"The portals—they can be reopened if done quickly enough." Maybe it wasn't quite the right spot. Brandishing his wand, he worked an obscure detection charm.

"You want to follow them? Into _hell_?" She wrung her hands. "You're badly hurt!"

"I've had worse." No, the location was right, and he was fairly confident that he recalled the incantation Fia had used to enlarge Nuriye's first portal. Perhaps invoking it was simply beyond his current ability.

Gabrielle clung to his shoulders, making him wince in pain. "Snap out of it, Harry! Their plane isn't a place we can survive in. Isn't it enough that you escaped?"

"Figured you'd say something like that." He saw hurt flash in her eyes and looked away guiltily. "She saved me back there. Unprompted." He smiled mirthlessly and lifted a hand to his chest, not touching. "Although she could've been more gentle."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Fia will be fine. She's strong, isn't she?"

"That she is, but... I'm worried about what Nuriye said. There seem to be other forces at play."

"That was her sister, wasn't it? She didn't look like she was out to hurt her. Much. By demon standards." Pulling his hand away, she waved her wand over his chest and clicked her tongue. "You need a healer."

A series of resounding cracks drowned out his reply. Wheeling about, he found himself targeted by dozens of red-robed Aurors.

"_Lâche tes baguettes et lève tes mains_!"

"_Nous sommes innocents_!" Gabrielle cried, raising her hands. "_Nous avons été attaqués aussi_!"

"_Lâchez vos baguettes, maintenant_!"

Harry's gaze darted around the red-robed ranks. He hesitated too long, and several of the Aurors' wands lit with multicolored lights. Erecting a shield, he hugged Gabrielle around the waist and activated their Portkey.

An invisible force catapulted them skyward. Hurricane winds howled around them, and indistinct shapes hurtled by in blurs of color. He held fast onto the squirming Gabrielle; she hadn't touched the Portkey and could get thrown off midway.

Finally, the Portkey spat them out in the vast arrival hall in Diagon Alley. The force of the landing was such that he crashed into Gabrielle, who had managed to stay upright, and gave an agonized groan.

Gabrielle fussed over him, and a robed receptionist hurried their way, but Harry gritted his teeth, chucked the exhausted Portkey aside, and grabbing her elbow, turned on his heel. After the familiar but never comfortable sensation of being squeezed through a hose, they emerged on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

He swayed on his feet, and Gabrielle didn't fare much better, disoriented by two spatial jumps in as many minutes. Stumbling inside, he braced a hand against the wall and headed for the stairs.

"Harry?" She pattered up to him and slung his arm over her slight shoulders, her face drawn yet determined. "Let me help."

"Cheers," he said, smiling tiredly.

She blanched. Right, his lip had been bloodied when Nuriye threw him. He must be a sight.

They ascended to the first floor, where he let go of Gabrielle and trudged into the study. His wand danced over a glass case, undoing the wards before he stuck his hand through the glass and lifted out his mother's amulet. Its dangling pendant, as he had learned, held a lock of Fia's hair.

In his childhood, during his darkest moments, the amulet gave him strength. In his teenage years, it was a reminder of the cursed existence he had doomed himself to. Now, it would help him locate his servant, no matter where she had gotten herself to.

Putting it around his neck, the weight familiar and oddly comforting, he clasped it tightly. "Fia. Speak to me."

The amulet grew slightly warmer, although that might've just been from his palm. He tilted his head and strained his ears before realizing sheepishly the response wouldn't be verbal. Gabrielle hovered by the door, her mouth opening, then closing again when she took in his grim expression.

"Fiamette," he said. "Your master calls. _Answer me_."

An agonized whimper rang in his head, making him flinch in surprise. "_Harry_... _hear_..."

"Are you alright?" he said loudly. "Where are you? Can you make it out of there?"

"_Caged_... _talking_... _can't_..." Clashes of metal resounded painfully in Harry's skull. Then a scream, laced with fury and agony, pierced through. "_Andras_!"

The amulet grew scorching hot, and he let go with a yelp. Undeterred, he grabbed it with his other hand and called to her again, but there was only silence. Letting go, he jabbed his wand at the shelves, summoned a grimoire into his hands, and leafed through furiously.

"Did you... get through to her?" Gabrielle asked, sidling up and peeking over his shoulder.

"Something's blocking her off. I didn't think it possible, but that just shows how poorly versed I still am in demonology." He turned several more pages before doubling back to a depiction of a fallen angel with an owl's head and a sword in his hand, the blade resting flat atop his bare shoulder. "She gave me a name, though. That's all I need."

"Andras," Gabrielle whispered, touching a finger to the yellowed page. "A Great Marquis of Hell who will slay anyone... commander of thirty legions... You can't _possibly_ be thinking—"

He snapped the book shut, startling her, and deposited it back into the shelf. Lighting up the fireplace with a wave of his wand, he grabbed a palmful of Floo powder and was about to toss it in, but she threw out her arms and blocked his way.

"Stop! Slow down already!" She took a bracing breath. "Where are you going?"

"St. Mungo's," he said innocently. "I need a healer, don't I?"

Her eyes narrowed. "And after that?"

"You've pretty much guessed it already, haven't you?" he asked with a wry grin.

With a noise between a growl and a sob, she launched herself into his arms. "That's suicide! Why can't you see that? It's probably a trap—if not _hers_, then this Andras's—"

"I'm not so naive as to think otherwise," he said, patting her head. "But that changes nothing. Whoever plotted this took something of mine, so I'm going to take it back."

"Will you listen to yourself!" She pushed off and peered up at him with misty eyes. "You sound just like her!"

He snorted. "The simplicity of their worldview is quite refreshing."

"That's not funny!" Her hand rose above his chest as though to pummel it before loosening and gripping his robes. She drew a shuddering breath. "I'm going too."

"Out of the question," he said firmly, pushing her hand down. "It's too dangerous."

She grasped his wrist and stood on her tiptoes to stare him in the eye. "That's exactly why I won't let you go alone."

He gave her a searching look. "You'd risk your life to bring Fia back? You don't even like her."

Emotion flashed in her eyes. "I like _you_," she growled, pressing her lips to his. "Although in moments like this, I wonder why." Her slender fingers pried open his fist, snatched the Floo powder, and tossed it atop the embers, causing green flames to roar up. "Now let's get you healed."

A little stunned, Harry allowed her to lead him into the Floo.


	19. Hell, Part Two

Gabrielle looked around the underground chamber with interest as they walked across its checkerboard floor. The eight-by-eight grid of black and white squares remained, but there was no sign of the giant chess set that had defended the Philosopher's Stone all those years ago.

Harry mustered his courage and cleared his throat. "Gabby—"

"If you're going to tell me not to come," she said, sparing him a glance, "don't waste your breath."

He grinned wryly. "I only wanted to offer to carry your rucksack."

Her brow furrowed in suspicion. "It's enchanted to weigh next to nothing. Just like yours."

"Er, must've slipped my mind." He signed in resignation. "Alright, you got me. This is the last chance to change your mind. Hell's not a place for someone like you."

"Nor you," she retorted. "We've been over this. I want to help you—I _can_ help. Those beasts were terrified of my flames!" Halting before the door into the next chamber, she crossed her arms and pouted. "If it were _Fia_, you'd take her along without a second thought."

He nudged open the door, stuck his head out—of the mountain troll who used to lurk here, not a whiff remained—and waved her through. "You don't have to prove anything to me. I want you to stay safe. I'll bring Fia back, and then we can go shopping again, all three of us."

"Since you still think of me as a helpless maiden, I clearly _do_ have something to prove." She jutted out her little chin.

He considered her for a moment, then snorted and tousled her hair. Smiling at her noise of protest, he entered the next chamber. She was right: they had been over this, and nothing could shake her resolve. He would have to take solace in knowing she had been outfitted in the best protective clothing money could buy. There was no time to fashion her a set of dragonhide armor, but her rugged blue robes had more protections weaved into them than Auror uniforms.

The table atop which the seven potions had been perched still stood, but no flames barred the way forward. As he halted at the entrance into the last chamber and turned back to Gabrielle, the hilt of the sword jutting out above his shoulder banged against the doorway. He winced and adjusted the scabbard's strap across his shoulder.

She caught up and eyed the hilt skeptically. "Did you really have to steal that sword?"

"I'm only borrowing it," he said defensively. "Not like old McGonagall was doing anything with it but letting it gather dust in her office."

"Please tell me you don't intend to challenge this Andras to a sword fight. Can you even fence?"

"Let's just call it a backup." He inhaled deeply as they entered the last chamber, but of course, any trace of brimstone was long gone. "And I don't need to know how to fence. The moment someone worthy takes up the Sword of Gryffindor, they can wield it proficiently. Old magic."

Gabrielle didn't seem convinced, but she hadn't seen him slay the basilisk, so he let it slide. Approaching the dais that the Mirror of Erised used to stand on, he scrutinized the flagstones around it. It didn't take long to locate a vaguely human-shaped scorch mark. Crouching beside, he slung off his rucksack and rummaged for the ritual paraphernalia.

Gabrielle's face darkened at the appearance of the Blood Brush, but she held her tongue while he sketched a pentacle on the floor a few paces to the right of the scorch mark. The spot where Fiamette had first arrived and changed his life forever.

"I don't remember her using anything like this," Gabrielle remarked after he was finished.

"I'm improvising," he admitted. "With Grimmauld Place warded and Paris swarming with Aurors, this is the only portal location we can make use of. Old as it is, it should be easier to reopen than to rip the world fabric anew somewhere else."

"And these?" she asked, watching him lay out Fia's teacup, towel, and other personal effects at the points of the star.

"These should help direct the portal toward her. This is originally a summoning spell, but if she can't come to us, I figure it ought to open a path for us to come to her." He chuckled mirthlessly at her anxious look. "I'm improvising _a lot._"

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "It'll be fine."

He smiled gratefully. "If it opens at all, it won't be for long. We'll need to dive in quickly."

Receiving a determined nod, he slipped off his amulet, and stooping over the pentacle, dangled the pendant above its center. He took a deep breath and chanted the incantation. The harsh syllables of hellspeak almost seemed to scrape the inside of his throat.

The lines of the pentacle blazed with sanguine light, and a coppery stench stung his nostrils. Gabrielle squirmed but didn't shy away. The air below the pendant hazed with heat, and a Quaffle-sized rift opened, a burning desert looming on the other side.

He grinned in triumph, yet the portal only wavered around the edges and did not expand further. Recalling Fia's method, he pushed his inner flame down his arm, splayed out his fingers, and raked them across the rift.

The portal burst wider in a blast of heated air. A mountain of black rock loomed below, then a river of magma, then the desert again, the destinations alternating so swiftly they blurred together. He sank to his knees, as dizzy as when he had painted the basement in his blood; the rift was sucking out his strength at an alarming rate.

"It doesn't look right!" Gabrielle cried against the blazing wind tearing through the chamber. The rift belched sparks and lost its shape.

"No choice!" He would need time to recover enough for another try, time he didn't have. Hooking his elbow around the strap of the rucksack, he raked his other hand over the rift and poured in more strength. "Go!"

The howling wind scalded his skin as he lurched face-first into the portal, far from the graceful leap he intended. Gabrielle jumped after him with a shriek, colliding with his back and shoving him all the way in.

A storm of furious energies churned them around, blinding flashes alternating with pure blackness. Gabrielle clung to him, her screams barely audible over the wind. Direction lost all meaning, and fear gripped Harry's heart. Not only did he get lost in this unstable space between the planes, but he also dragged in an innocent. This had been a monumentally stupid endeavor.

For a fleeting moment, he met her eyes, panicked and looking at him for guidance. He gritted his teeth and clenched his amulet. Drawing on the tenuous connection of the soul pact, he called upon his magic, not through formal incantation, but a desperate appeal.

_Bring me to her_.

The blackness below ruptured, and they plummeted toward a sea of roiling sulfuric clouds. He drew in a breath and choked; the air was thin and scoured his lungs. Through his watering eyes, he saw enormous blimp-like shapes swimming in the rapidly nearing clouds.

He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as they plunged into the clouds. Something walloped his back so hard the impact separated him from Gabrielle. His eyes flew open, and he reached for her extended hand, his cry cut short by the sulfur scorching his throat.

A barbed tentacle lashed out at him from the thick of the clouds and sent him into a wild spin. He instinctively covered his head, just in time before another tentacle whacked him across the face. Then he burst out from the clouds and plummeted toward a rocky waste below. His robes flapped wildly as he spread his limbs to slow the fall.

The clouds overhead parted, revealing a gigantic monster that looked like a blimp with dozens of swiveling eyeballs and twice as many billowing tentacles. More of its ugly kind hovered below the clouds as far as the eye could see. He glimpsed a speck of blue in one of the monsters' grasp farther away. There was a flash of white, and its tentacles roiled in agony, dropping a robed figure into the reddish dunes below.

"Gabby," he croaked, and erupted in a coughing fit. The ground neared. He drew his wand, dizzy from the lack of air. "Arresto... Arresto Momentum." He slowed a fraction, yet his eyes still watered with the velocity. He aimed at a heap of stone that was coming up to meet him. "Spongify! Arresto Momentum! Arresto—"

He slammed into the heap, bounced, and rolled down its side, scraping his palms on the rock until coming to a rest at the base. The rucksack plopped atop his chest, driving the last air from his lungs. For a minute, he lay there and gathered his strength, staring dazedly at the dark yellowish clouds until the sight of two blimp-monsters engaging in a tug of war made him recall Gabrielle's predicament.

Rising with a groan, he took stock of his condition. He had his wand, sword, and miraculously, even his rucksack. His injuries amounted to scrapes and bruises, although the tentacle had left a welt across his cheek that stung something fierce. His throat was parched, each breath of arid air irritating it further, but unlike up in the sky, he could at least breathe.

He conjured water to wash off and drink, then wrapped his face with a dampened cloth so that only his eyes remained uncovered. Hitching his rucksack over both shoulders, he took in his surroundings.

Jagged rocks towered around him, rife with sharp edges as if never eroded by rain. The boiling skies glowed with a sickly light that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, casting the wasteland into perpetual twilight. When he took an experimental step, he had to windmill his arms for balance; he was unexpectedly light.

A "Point Me" caused his wand to spin without settling on any one direction. Glancing around, he started gingerly toward a pass between two tooth-like ridges. He had a hunch that was the direction the monster had carried off Gabrielle in before dropping her. And if not, he still needed to get out from behind these cliffs to find the dunes he had glimpsed.

He eyed the craggy ridges as he passed them. Climbing them would give him a great vantage point, but those sharp edges would shred his palms. If only he had brought a broomstick.

A shadow passed overhead, and he crouched reflexively. Tilting back his head, he goggled at a flock of featherless, leather-winged birds gliding below the clouds at great speed. Coming across a blimp-monster, they cawed harshly and swooped upon it. The blimp lashed out with its tentacles, squeezing and crushing several birds, but they were too numerous, and its gas sack deflated as it was punctured by their beaks. Before the carcass could fall to the ground, it was torn apart and devoured by the flock.

Gulping, Harry scooted closer to the cliff. Perhaps it was for the best he hadn't brought a broomstick after all.

After the flock finished feasting and glided away in search of more prey, he straightened up and continued along the canyon between the ridges. The footing was terrible, but his steps were light, and with the wet cloth cooling his face, the heat wasn't unbearable.

Emerging from the canyon, he perked up at the sight. Before him stretched a plain of dry, cracked soil that terminated in a row of jagged cliffs, above which hung a haze of heat. Hopefully, he would find the desert just beyond.

Pebbles rolled under his soles as he descended into the plain and set off. It was easy walking, and once he adapted to his strangely lower weight, he strode as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

He was halfway across when his leg abruptly sank to the knee. Yanking it out with a gasp, he stared into the crumbling hole. Something clicked rapidly in the darkness, the noise growing louder every second. Swallowing, he conjured a light.

He glimpsed eyes, gleaming black eyes and countless spindly limbs, scuttling over slimy pale larvae, before, with a screech so high-pitched it was almost beyond his hearing, scorpion-like creatures the size of dogs poured out through the hole.

He turned and ran for dear life, the pounding of his pulse nearly drowning out the screeches and the clicking of pincers behind him. The ground resounded dully under his feet but thankfully held his weight. Skidding to a halt before an almost vertical cliff twice his height, he spun around. His blood ran cold. The ranks of the pursuing scorpion-things were so dense he could hardly see the ground between them.

His wand blurred, incinerating and tearing and blasting clumps of scorpions into the air—yet even dismembered, their chitin leaking acidic ichor, they kept coming.

Tapping his chest in a Feather-weight Charm, he turned his back to them, injected strength into his legs, and jumped. The power of his leap was such that he soared well above the cliff before falling onto its peak. He slipped and scrabbled along the smooth rocks until finding a secure footing. Breathing easier, he trained his wand at the oncoming horde. Now that he was safe, he could pick them off at his leisure—

The scorpions scuttled up to the cliff and proceeded up its vertical surface without slowing.

"Oh, _come on_!" he cried.

Turning around, he skidded down the cliff's other side. The rocky wasteland merged into a reddish desert a short ways ahead. He jumped and soared for lengthy seconds, waving his arms for balance. The moment his feet touched the ground, he tapped his chest to return his weight to normal and broke into a run, glancing over his shoulder until he saw the first scorpions crest the cliffs.

Pivoting, he snarled out Blasting Curse after Blasting Curse. Jets of fiery orange buzzed toward the cliffs and blew them to smithereens. Rock fragments rained down on him, and pulverized stone clouded his vision, yet he kept casting until the thickening dust caused him to erupt in sneezes. Tightening the cloth around his face, he backpedaled while scanning his surroundings.

The dust gradually settled atop a giant field of rubble. All was still. Then a pebble rolled, and a chitinous limb emerged. A lone scorpion dug itself out from under the rock fragments, its armor battered and half of its legs missing.

Harry trained his wand on it. The creature's remaining eyes focused on him, and it clicked its pincers weakly. Turning awkwardly, it limped off where it came from.

"That's right, you run away," he muttered.

Snorting at himself, he plonked down on a nearby boulder to catch his breath. The desert boiled to his right, dark red dunes rising and falling for miles. The air was hotter, and the surroundings marginally brighter, because the sands reflected the yellowish light from above.

Making sure there were no birds in the sky, he raised his wand and created a fountain of green sparks. For several minutes, he scanned the murky horizon, then stood and threw up sparks once more. He glanced back at the destroyed cliffs dubiously. Perhaps he should wait here; Gabrielle must have heard the noises of battle—

A glint of green in the corner of his vision made him whirl toward the desert. Far in the distance, green sparks rained atop the dunes. He laughed, giddy with relief, then oriented himself by the tallest rock behind him and set off into the burning sands.

His feet sank an inch with every step, raising puffs of dust. The heat grew more oppressive the deeper he went, sapping his strength despite the lightness of his body. The terrain rose and fell, and in the dips between the dunes, he could barely make out the rock he had chosen for a landmark.

Huffing and puffing, he crested a dune. The desert stretched onward endlessly, the horizon dissolving in a haze. He fired off more sparks and waited while he regained his wind.

No response came. Alarmed, he switched course toward the tallest dune in the vicinity in hopes to see farther ahead. The grueling pace was catching up to him, and he climbed almost on all fours, the sand scorching his palms.

A large mound rose in his path, spilling sand down the slope and sending him sliding backward. He dug in his feet and stared. A spiky grey carapace emerged, then an equally spiky tail. Its owner turned ponderously and fixed Harry with two pairs of beady eyes. It resembled a very prickly turtle.

"Any chances you eat grass?" he said.

The turtle-monster cheeped, snapped its beak-like mouth, and plodded toward him.

"Figures." He took aim at its head. "Confringo!"

The curse missed its mark by a few inches and instead blasted the carapace. Once the explosion cleared, he saw that it had done little but scorch the grey armor. The turtle made that odd cheeping noise again and waddled at him faster. Well, s_lightly _faster.

He backtracked quickly, then furrowed his brows. Even infuriated, the creature's waddle was slower than his walk. Smirking, he took aim again.

"Stupefy. Lacero. Incendio. Sectumsempra." His eyebrows rose as each hex failed to do more than elicit an angry cheep. That damned carapace was as tough as dragonhide. "Er, Flipendo?"

The turtle didn't even seem to notice the jinx as it stubbornly lumbered closer. Scowling, he decided to try a different tack, and with a mental apology to Aberforth, transfigured a goat. The sand made for poor material, almost actively resisting his magic, but the goat came out convincing enough; letting out a mournful bleat, it tottered off along the slope.

The turtle halted and swiveled its head between him and the goat as if the quandary of which one to chase had proved too much for its brain. He brandished his wand. The turtle cheeped and waddled off after the goat.

Exhaling, he made his way up the dune, launched some sparks, and pivoted slowly around. He _could_ see farther from here, but there was still no sign of Gabrielle. After waiting a minute, he trudged down the opposite slope.

He was halfway down when he sank into the sand to his ankles, then his calves. Yelping, he wheeled about to try and get back up—yet no matter how frantically he scrabbled with his hands and feet, the sand flowed down faster, carrying him into a funnel-shaped hollow between the dunes. Something stirred at its center, and an enormous circle of bristly feelers broke through the surface. A stench of rotting meat wafted out.

Gagging from the stench, Harry redoubled his efforts, but the more he struggled, the faster he slid down. The feelers undulated as if sensing a delicious meal. Abandoning the futile struggle, he pressed his back to the sand and unleashed a flurry of curses at the lurking monster.

His attacks sent up plumes of sand, then a spray of black ichor. The feelers thrashed, and between them gaped open a monstrous maw filled with row after row of serrated teeth.

He let loose another curse, but the sand surged downslope, taking him with it. Tapping his chest, he desperately attempted to kick off, but his feet found no solid purchase. He screamed as he tumbled toward the bottomless maw, faster and faster, the monster's fetid breath washing over him—

"Carpe Retractum!" cried a female voice.

Something wrapped around his forearm and yanked him up so hard his shoulder was nearly torn from its socket. Sailing through the air, he goggled at Gabrielle's slight figure standing atop the dune, the rope around his forearm connecting to her raised wand, and her head encased in a translucent bubble. The lazy arc of his flight ended below her feet. Springing up, he embraced her and spun her around with a laugh.

"Gabby! Are you alright?"

She squeaked and slapped his shoulder. "I should be the one asking that!"

Sobering, he set her down and glanced into the treacherous hollow, where the monster's feelers were slowly sinking under the sand. "Yeah. Uh, cheers."

"_Cheers_? You nearly died, and that's all you have to say?" Her chest heaved, and her face behind the bubble was pale.

"Not to worry, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve," he lied. "Calm down. We both knew what we were signing up for."

She deflated. "I know... I know. It's just, when I saw that thing was about to swallow you, my heart almost stopped."

"And you did great, thinking on your feet like that," he said, squeezing her upper arm. "Now that we're together, we can properly watch each other's backs." He blinked his stinging eyes, then set to washing them with a gentle stream of water. "How come you didn't respond to my sparks?"

"The pterodactyl looking birds seemed to be stalking me, so I didn't dare. Luckily, they chased off one of those tentacle monstrosities into the clouds afterward." She scowled at the sky. "Serves it right."

He straightened up in remembrance. "Blimey, were you okay when the tentacle thing grabbed you? I saw you fall!" Grasping her shoulders, he ran his eyes over her dirty robes.

"A trained witch won't die from a fall," she said with a small smile. "By the looks of it, you haven't had it easy either." She nudged down the cloth covering his face and waved her wand over the welt on his cheek. "How come you aren't wearing a Bubble-Head Charm? Should I cast one for you?"

He grimaced. "No thanks. Everything looks funny through 'em, and your voice echoes as if you were wearing a bucket."

Her wand froze for a moment. "But doesn't the air _burn_?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "The smell's not so bad once you get used to it."

She shook her head and hugged herself. "It's more than that. The charm helps, but even now, I can feel something foul seeping in through my very skin." At his concerned look, she drew a bracing breath and straightened up. "Let's not spend any more time here than necessary. Which way?"

"Er—well, I haven't quite planned that far ahead." He looked around, absently brushing grains of sand off his front. His palm encountered a lump under his robes, and he brightened up. "Let's move to a safer spot, and I'll try something."

They descended the dune and climbed the next one, skirting the valley between lest another monster lurk there. Finding a flat spot, he sat cross-legged on the sizzling sand.

"This might take a while," he said, squirming as the heat permeated the thick fabric of his clothes. "Keep an eye out for things, alright?"

She nodded and stood protectively over him, her wand bared and her delicate jaw set resolutely. He smiled at the sight until she gave him a questioning glance and he refocused on the matter at hand.

Pulling the amulet from under his robes, he called Fia. There was no answer. Making himself more comfortable, he shut his eyes and relaxed. His breathing evened as his world shrank to the warm pendant in his hand. He poured his power into it, much like he had during the opening of the portal, until the metal grew hot. Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt a flicker of response.

"There," he said, jabbing a finger. He then moved it a few degrees left. "No, wait—there. Feels about right."

Opening his eyes, he peered where his finger pointed. There was only hazy desert in that direction.

Gabrielle placed her wand atop her palm. "Point Me." The wand spun endlessly just like his had, as if there was no north for it to point to. "Finite."

"We'll have to orient ourselves by those rocks." Standing up, he glanced back the way he had come and chose a tall rock to use as a landmark. The heated air already obscured the view, but it would serve them for another mile or so.

"How far is she?" Gabrielle asked.

"It felt very faint. A dozen miles, at least." He couldn't help but notice her face fall at his answer. "Not ideal, I know, but we're lucky my portal even got us here. Do you have your Apparition license?"

"_Yes_, I have my Apparition license," she said, a little indignant. Glancing around, she pointed to a nearby dune. "Meet you over there."

"Wait!" He grasped her shoulder, making her fumble her heel-turn. "This is a different plane we're in. It might not work, or worse. Let me go first."

She looked at him in surprise, then nodded slowly. "I hadn't even thought of that. Be careful."

"Right... here goes."

Keeping his destination firm in his mind, he spun on the spot. There was the usual instant of compression, but then something squelched, his ears popped, and the world _inverted_.

His eyes bulged out. The pitch-black sky bore down on him with an almost physical weight, while the ground below his feet glowed a dim grey. Color had leached out of everything except his flesh and clothes. Glacial cold nipped at his exposed skin.

Glancing to where Gabrielle had stood, he saw a winged figure made of white light and recoiled with a gasp. His reflexive inhalation drew no air into his lungs; it felt like trying to breathe through plastic film. His heart drummed frantically.

The very space impeded his movements as he swiveled his head about. The white figure stood still, the purity of its glow almost painful to look at. He clutched at his throat, his fingers frigid against his neck. His panicked yell made no sound. With fading consciousness, he visualized the burning desert and twisted on his heel.

There was that _squelch_ again, and he dropped to all fours on the red sand, sucking in the brimstone-fouled air as if it were the sweetest thing. Gabrielle gasped, knelt beside him, and laid a hand on his back, only to pull it back hastily.

"You're freezing!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I..." He shook his head. "What did it look like for you?"

"You vanished and reappeared looking like—like you've taken a stroll through the North Pole." She looked him over with concern.

"Right away?"

Her brow scrunched up. "Yes. As if you Apparated into the same spot."

"Bloody hell, that's weird." He rose to his feet. "I went to a different place... like the opposite of here. It was freezing cold, and I couldn't breathe." Shaking off his surprise, he gave her an apologetic look. "We'll have to walk."

She peered into the desert anxiously, then squared her shoulders and raised her wand to douse herself with conjured water. The droplets that fell to the sand fizzled and evaporated. "Let's go."

He eyed her flushed skin and heaving chest. She would not last in this furnace heat. There had to be a smarter way to go about this.

"Harry?" she called over her shoulder.

Glancing down, he tested his footing. His boots sank in an inch, but the sand below compacted and supported his weight. If he managed to stay to the dunetops, his plan might work.

He grinned at Gabrielle. "Do you trust me?" Receiving a confused nod, he came up to her and tapped her with his wand before doing the same to himself. "Feather-weight Charm. You're going to love this."

A supernatural lightness suffused him, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, almost floating off. He pocketed his wand, secured the cloth around his mouth, and scooped Gabrielle up in a bridal carry. She made a surprised noise and looked at him in question.

"Hold on tight." He waited for her to hug him around the neck, circulated his power through his muscles, and jumped.

Her shriek melded with his whoop of exhilaration as they rocketed through the air. His sleeves flapped about, and the sulfurous wind stung his eyes. He glanced back at the cloud of sand where he kicked off, then ahead at the dune their high arc was taking them.

Bending his knees in preparation, he slammed into the sand. Gabrielle squeaked and clutched his neck. He ran to maintain his momentum before leaping again.

As they rose above the desert once more, she loosened her death hold and looked around with wide eyes. The yellow clouds overhead seemed within an arm's reach. He gave her a grin, which she returned shakily.

"You're mad!" she cried.

He had to wait before answering, because they plummeted toward the sands again. This landing was less lucky, and he almost tripped before finding his footing on a treacherous slope. Gathering speed, he jumped, this time regulating his power to try and land atop the nearest dune.

"Beats walking, right?" he asked breathlessly.

"Only if we don't break out necks!"

"A trained witch won't die from a fall, surely."

Gabrielle stuck out her tongue at him. Grinning, he landed in a crouch and kicked off almost gracefully. The clouds farther ahead parted, releasing a multitude of tentacles and eyeballs; upon the next landing, he switched course to give the monster a wide berth. Gabrielle kept her wand at the ready, but the blimp did not pursue them.

As they soared over the dunes, a movement straight ahead caught his eye. A spiky turtle waddled uphill, the sand dragging it inexorably to the bottom of a funnel-shaped pit, where feelers stirred under the surface. Gabrielle cried out and clung to him tighter.

"Sand to rock!" he barked as they descended toward a side of the funnel.

At a jab of her wand, a platform of rock formed in the sand, but she misjudged the distance, and they flew past it. She hurriedly transfigured another an instant before he landed upon it with a bone-jarring impact. The platform listed and slid down the slope. He staggered, and sending more power into his legs, jumped mightily.

They soared higher than ever, the air thin and harsh on his nose. He laughed. "Again!"

Shifting in his arms, she worked another transfiguration. With a stronger foothold, his leaps swallowed the miles. She would call out corrections to their course, but the rocks behind soon faded out of sight, and he went on by the faint draw he fancied he could sense from the amulet. Swiveling eyeballs occasionally peeked from the clouds to watch them, and they ran afoul of pterodactyls once, but Gabrielle's hexes scattered their flock, and he quickly outpaced them.

Land, run, jump. Land, run, jump. The gloomy light never changed, and the desert appeared neverending. Gabrielle occasionally renewed the Feather-weight Charms and conjured water, both to cool them and to wash off the sulfur.

"You must be exhausted," she said, dabbing his forehead with a damp handkerchief. "We should stop and rest."

He shook his head mutely. Whenever his jumps shortened, he recklessly pushed more power into his fatigued muscles, and he feared that should he stop now, he wouldn't be able to move again. At the very least, they had to escape the desert. He wasn't sure how long they had been traveling, but they would need to sleep sooner or later, and he preferred to do that under some cover.

Land, run, jump. Even his dogged determination had begun to waver by the time he spied the first change at the apex of the leap: the air appeared clearer, and something like hills loomed in the distance. He croaked hoarsely, then jerked his chin forward. Gabrielle glanced forward and beamed at him, forgetting to transfigure his next foothold.

Landing on loose sand, he sank wearily to one knee but forced himself to get back up. Gabrielle stuttered an apology, to which he just grimaced in an approximation of a smile. His legs burned, but the prospect of the end of the journey urged him on. Gritting his teeth, he infused his limbs with the last shreds of his power.

The dunes began leveling out, and stones peppered the sands as the desert gradually turned into rocky barrens. The air, while still hot, no longer scorched his face. Spying a formation of hills, he made for it in hopes of finding shelter. His leaps were ungainly, and he puffed like a locomotive.

Cresting a hill in a final burst of effort, he descended into a lifeless valley and landed heavily on compacted dirt. He staggered for several steps and nearly dropped Gabrielle, who squeaked and stood on unsteady legs, clutching his arm to support herself as much as him.

"This..." He braced his palms on his knees and panted. "This'll do for the day... Find somewhere... to rest."

Gabrielle glanced around and led him to shadowy cave mouth in a nearby cliff. He patted his pockets for his wand, but she was faster, sending a pulse of golden light into the darkness and tilting her head.

"It's empty," she said.

He tottered inside at her heels. A wave of her wand sent a globe of light toward the ceiling. The cave was little more than a niche in the rock, about the size of his old bedroom at Privet Drive. He dragged himself to its back wall and sagged to the ground.

"Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him.

"Yeah, just..." He stretched out his legs with a grunt. "Tired."

She unlaced his boots, tugged them off, and proceeded to wash his feet. He halfheartedly told her not to bother, but she shushed him and rolled up his trousers so she could massage his calves. Groaning in relief, he gave in and relaxed.

"Rest," she said, patting his leg. "I'll take care of everything."

Bereft of magical power, his muscles were so lethargic that even turning his head proved a challenge. Reclining against the wall, he watched Gabrielle ward the entrance and vanish the pebbles off the floor. He felt an urge to contribute, and fishing out his wand, waved it shakily until he managed to conjure a large slab of ice. His eyelids sagged as he luxuriated in the slightly cooler air.

He must've dozed off because when he next opened his eyes, a camping stove was burning, and a pleasant scent wafted through the cave.

"Hungry?" Gabrielle offered him a bowl of soup, her expression oddly nervous.

He extended a trembling hand, but his muscles gave out and he nearly dropped the bowl. Tutting, she dipped the spoon into the soup and brought it to his mouth. He was about to say that he could feed himself, but his hunger won out, and he slurped down the spoonful. Gabrielle beamed and offered another.

"Sorry," he said, swallowing. "Thanks."

She gave him an incredulous look. "It's the least I could do! You didn't have to push yourself so hard, but... thanks. It's a little less suffocating here."

He met her blue eyes, slightly blurred by the Bubble-Head Charm, and grinned. "Then it was worth it."

Her cheeks pinkened. She fed him whole two bowls, then fixed him a cup of herbal tea she had brought along. While he sipped it contentedly, she retrieved blankets from their rucksacks.

He dozed off again, only to wake up from Gabrielle tugging him toward a bedroll she had laid out. Mumbling his thanks, he flopped down beside her and instantly fell asleep.


	20. Hell, Part Three

It felt like no time had passed between his head hitting the pillow and the shriek of a Caterwauling Charm rousing him, but when his eyes flew open, his mouth was parched as if he had slept for hours. Wincing at his stiff muscles, he sat up and blinked groggily. The cave was dark save for the scant yellowish light filtering through its mouth. Silhouetted against it was an enormous creature with far too many bristly legs.

A gasp came from beside him, and Gabrielle elbowed his stomach in her hurry to get up. He hissed in pain, then shushed her confused apologies and fumbled for his wand. For the life of him, he couldn't recall where he had left it.

She found hers first and conjured a globe of light. A spider the size of Aragog chittered hungrily at the entrance, apparently balked by the wards. Gabrielle screamed. The spider oriented on her, and parting its mandibles, spewed a jet of greenish venom.

Harry reflexively shielded with his blanket, but the venom splashed against an invisible barrier just inside the cave. As the greenish goo trickled down, it sizzled angrily, causing the barrier to flare into visibility and melt. Magical venom! The caterwaul cut off, and the scrabble of the spider's feet filled the cave as it barged inside.

Gabrielle screamed louder and pelted it with hexes, which slowed its advance but did not do any damage. Finally locating his wand under his pillow, Harry took aim.

"Impedimenta!" he cried, too shaken up for nonverbal spellcasting.

The spider slowed, but only marginally. Its more-than-a-dozen feet pattered on the ground as it swiveled toward him and parted its mandibles.

He swished his wand. "Ventus!"

A gust of wind turned the erupting venom back upon the monster, which emitted an almost ultrasonic shriek. Resisting the urge to clamp his palms over his ears, Harry knocked it out of the cave with a pulse of force. His trembling hands hadn't done any favors for his accuracy, but the monster was so large it was impossible to miss.

He strode outside and worked a large-scale transfiguration. The rocky soil obeyed more readily than the desert sand had, and before the disoriented spider could escape, two stone claws burst out at its sides and trapped it. Its mandibles drooped. Grinning viciously, Harry flicked his wand, and the claws slammed together in a spray of steaming gore. He spat, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then ran his wand over himself to funnel off the splatter.

"For a spider to grow this large," Gabrielle stammered behind him, "this really _is_ hell."

He snorted. "That's what clued you in?" He took in her trembling lip and sobered. Glancing down to make sure he was clean, he embraced her. "Shh, it's alright now. It's over."

She hugged back fiercely. "H-hate spiders."

"I don't think it was a spider, technically. The thing had like twenty legs." She gave a shuddering sob, and he patted her back apologetically. "Well, whatever it was, it won't bother us anymore. Let's get some rest; I don't think it's been longer than a couple hours."

She sniffled. "What if another one comes?"

"Then I'll squash it too." He ushered her inside. "Great job on the wards, by the way. Can you put up another set?"

Giving her a task to focus on helped: as she layered protective charms over the entrance, enough to stop a rampaging tribe of giants, her shaking subsided. For his part, he raised a stone wall almost as tall as the cave mouth, only leaving a gap for ventilation.

The tangible barrier appeared to calm Gabrielle down. Joining him under the blanket, she snuggled into his side. He raised his wand to extinguish the floating light, but she shook her head frantically, so he left it be. As his racing heart calmed down, he slowly drifted off.

* * *

The globe of light still floated by the ceiling when he awoke, but the ice he had conjured had long melted. After the spider, he wasn't sure he would be able to relax, but he had slept like a log. He wondered sardonically what it said about his life that he could doze off minutes after a deadly battle.

Gabrielle slumbered beside him, her brow creased as if in a less-than-pleasant dream. He gingerly rose to a seated position and groaned; yesterday's exertion had well and truly caught up with him, and he was sore all over.

Gabrielle stirred and mumbled, "Good morning."

"Morning," he said, smiling wanly. Even with her hair tousled about her face and her eyes gummy from sleep, she was lovely.

She got up, pecked him on the cheek, and set to preparing breakfast. He tried to help, but upon noticing his sorry state, she ordered him to stay put, so he instead fiddled with his amulet. After a hearty meal, copious amounts of coffee, and a pain-relieving potion, he felt capable of moving again.

He tore down the wall, letting in the eternal twilight and a whiff of brimstone. A pack of gaunt rats feasting on the spider's remains sized him up with their crimson eyes in eerie silence, then scurried off as one. Stepping outside warily, he scanned the surroundings.

"Where to?" Gabrielle asked, joining him. She studiously avoided looking anywhere near the splatter on the ground.

He pivoted in the direction he had sensed Fia's presence. Peaks of a distant mountain range loomed over the horizon, black like coal. "The mountains, I reckon."

They set off into the barrens. Even the leisurely pace was torture on his legs, but he pushed on, knowing the exercise would help him recover. As he gloomily considered the faraway mountains, his foot slipped on a pebble, and he stumbled.

Gabrielle grabbed his arm to steady him. "Are you alright?"

"Just tripped." He gave her a reassuring smile and slipped out of her hold. "I'm fine."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. He pretended not to notice her hover by his side as though expecting him to keel over any second.

"Would you have pushed yourself so hard yesterday if you were alone?" she asked at length.

He shrugged. "Probably. If you're thinking I was being noble for your sake, stop. I don't like this place any more than you do."

For a while, they trudged in silence. The rocky terrain sprawled toward a great wall of smoke miles away. Here and there, an occasional jagged pillar or a crevice broke up the monotony. He gazed off into space, losing himself in the rhythm of his steps.

"She won't truly appreciate this, you know," Gabrielle said. "I don't think she's capable of it."

He shook off his reverie. "Come again?"

"Even if you fight your way through hordes of monsters for her sake, she'll just complain about you not coming sooner. I can see it already." She turned her nose up and assumed a snooty tone. "_Pathetic mortal, what took you so long? If you have the nerve to call yourself my master, act worthy of the title._"

He barked a laugh. "That _does_ sound like something she'd say."

"And you sound delighted about it." She sighed deeply. "Honestly, I'll never understand what you see in her."

"Oh, she has her charms." His lips stretched into a lecherous grin.

Gabrielle huffed. "You're such a _man_. If it's just that..." She ducked her head and fidgeted with her fingers. "Countless beautiful woman would kill to date you. You'd have your pick and wouldn't have to get involved in this hellish madness. Live a normal life."

"All those groupies who stalked me after Voldemort's defeat wanted something," he scoffed. "To bask in my fame, to get spoiled with my money, to make the great Harry Potter fall for them as if I were a trophy. I've been fawned over enough to last me a lifetime."

Her head whipped his way. "And _she_ wants to corrupt you! To enslave you, steal your soul!"

He grinned. "And she makes no secret of it. As I said before, her honesty is refreshing."

"You're raving mad," she said, but her fond smile belied her words. "I won't try to convince you to abandon her, not anymore... but you deserve better."

He raised his eyebrows. "You know the nature of our relationship. How I bound her. If I want something from Fia, anything at all, I take it."

"That's what I find so sad. You said you weren't a hero, but I still consider you one. You deserve a relationship of mutual respect and love, not this... this vicious contest where you constantly wrestle with each other to try and come out on top." At the suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, she punched his shoulder. "That's not funny!"

"You're such an adorable little romantic," he said, chuckling. "Even if I'm nothing but a fleeting diversion to her, I've made my peace with it. And, really, Fia's not as bad as you think."

Gabrielle fixed him with a skeptical stare. "She openly mocks you every chance she gets." Her cheeks pinkened. "And she treats _me_ like her plaything."

"A lot of the time, she puts up a front because her pride won't allow her to do otherwise. The next time she does that, watch her tail."

She tilted her head. "Her tail?"

"It wags when she's happy. That's how I know she doesn't mean the abuse she's spouting." He grinned. "It's kind of cute."

She goggled at him. "Cute. That... grotesque thing. You _are_ mad."

"Hey now, no insulting people's appendages. You have a pair of unusual ones yourself, even if they only came out when—"

She slapped his shoulder and looked away to hide her reddening cheeks. "Don't remind me!"

His grin widened. "Why not? Your wings were adorable. All fluffy and fluttering like you were trying to fly off."

"_Stop_," she moaned, pressing her palms to the bubble over her head.

Laughing, he took mercy on her and dropped the subject.

Slowly but steadily, they drew closer to the wall of smoke. It rose almost as high as the clouds and twisted across the barrens as far as the eye could see. Since they had to cross it sooner or later, they veered off the course set by the amulet and headed for the nearest bend.

After another hour's hike, they got close enough to spy a stream of lava within the smoke. Exchanging wide-eyed looks, they plodded closer. A smell of molten metal permeated the air. The smoke belching from fissures along the stream impeded their vision and made it difficult to breathe, and even Harry had to resort to a Bubble-Head Charm. A dozen paces before the lava, the heat grew so scorching that the water they doused themselves with was steaming off their clothes.

He stared in awe. The lava river was as wide as the Thames and flowed with inexorable slowness, an occasional bubble breaking up its blazing surface. The other shore was barely visible beyond a haze of volcanic gasses.

He edged closer to the lava, stomped the ground to test his footing, and winced at the pain in his calf. A fragment crumbled off the shore and ignited as it sank slowly into the flow.

"I hope you aren't thinking about jumping across," Gabrielle said. She must've read the answer from his face because she jabbed a finger at him. "No! You can barely walk as it is. Even _she_ warned you about overusing that power before you recovered!"

He glanced across the river and nodded grudgingly. It was probably too far even if he were in tip-top shape. "Well, I'm open to alternatives—and _please_ don't say Apparition."

"Levitation?" She worried her lip. "No, too far. A bridge? You're good with transfiguration."

He tapped his wand against his thigh in contemplation. Raising it, he shaped the sooty rock of the shoreline into a wide, low arch over the lava. His progress petered out not a dozen yards away, and he hissed out a frustrated breath. The bridge did not span even a quarter of the river, its end hovering precariously over the lava.

He tiptoed toward it and stepped on. It held his weight, at least this close to the base. He took a few more steps before swishing his wand at the lava ahead. It roiled and bubbled, but defied his attempts to transfigure it. His attempt to raise a support column also failed; either the stream was too deep, or the bottom was just as resistant to magic.

A loud crack resounded, and the bridge plunged into the lava. Yelping, he scampered back to the shore. He sent the pale-faced Gabrielle a reassuring look and watched the current slowly carry the bridge away, the brittle rock under its base fractured from his weight.

"There goes that idea," he said grimly. "I can only work with material on this side, and it needs to cover well over a hundred feet."

"Maybe if we build it first and levitate it across," she suggested.

"We can only affix it at the shore, and something that long will likely collapse under its own weight. I haven't the foggiest idea about proper construction." He tried to wipe the sweat off his brow and scowled when fingers encountered the membrane of the Bubble-Head Charm.

"A rope... a tunnel..." Gabrielle hummed in thought. "A trebuchet... No, I'm serious—there was a French wizard who launched himself into an enemy castle—he famously forgot to cast a Cushioning Charm..."

Chuckling, he took her by the elbow. "Let's get away from here first. The heat's melting our brains."

They walked out of the smoke. Gabrielle plopped down on a boulder nearby, murmuring under her breath. He canceled his Bubble-Head Charm, splashed cool water onto his face, and raking a hand through his damp hair, stared up at the clouds.

"You know," he mused, "I bet if we somehow lured one of those tentacle things down, I could put it under the _Imperius_ and make it carry us across." His excitement faded as he took in her mildly horrified expression. "Let's table that idea for now."

"Let's," Gabrielle agreed emphatically. She furrowed her brows before perking up. "A boat!"

"A _boat_?" he said. "A boat... Huh. That's actually not a bad idea."

She beamed at him and raised a finger. "You can fashion it from metal, and it'll still float! I learned about it in Muggle studies."

"The temperature's the problem. A metal that wouldn't melt in lava..." He paced back and forth. "Has to be below iron, can't transfigure anything heavier in meaningful amounts... What was titanium's melting point, again? Damn it, I should've brought my Alchemist's Almanac."

Gabrielle giggled, causing him to glance at her in surprise. "Use whatever's easiest to work with. I'll just enchant it with the Flame-Freezing Charm."

"Right," he said sheepishly. "There's that."

They promptly sketched some designs in the dirt. To his chagrin and Gabby's amusement, his attempt looked more like a teacup than something seaworthy. Hers resembled a schooner, until he pointed out that it would not need sails, and she ruefully settled on a simple boat like those the first-years crossed the Black Lake on.

Transfiguring the hellish rock into iron wasn't easy, but he persevered until, half an hour later, he had crafted something like an overlarge bathtub. The hull came out too thin for his liking, so he spent another half an hour covering the outside in overlapping steel scales that gleamed under the light. Gabrielle appeared unduly impressed, _ooh_ing and _aah_ing over the glorified bathtub as she imbued it with enchantments to make it tougher and resistant to heat.

They had a quick meal before braving the river. As Harry sat cross-legged and sipped his tea, Gabrielle produced a pointy hat from her rucksack and transfigured it into a gold-trimmed tricorne.

"For you," she said, presenting it to him with a coy smile.

"Er, cheers." Setting the cup aside, he donned the hat. It fit perfectly.

Gabrielle clapped, her eyes sparkling.

"Okay," he said, his lips quirking, "what's this about?"

"I just thought it fitting." She looked down and doodled in the dirt. "Promise not to laugh?"

"Sure," he said, nonplussed.

"Back when I was a little girl, I loved to read swashbuckling adventures. Pirates and hidden treasure and sword-fights." She sent him a bashful side-glance. "I wanted a dashing sea captain to come and sweep me off my feet. Take me away from our stuffy mansion and set sail to faraway lands. It's why I volunteered as Fleur's hostage, you know. Convincing our parents wasn't easy, but I wanted to go on an adventure, even a small one."

He grinned wryly. "And all you got was a frigid lake, a bunch of grouchy merpeople, and a _leetle boy _too clueless to realize the danger was a sham."

"Yes," she said, blushing. "And after that boy pulled me out of the lake, I could never imagine anyone else as my captain."

His cheeks heated, and he covered his embarrassment with a chuckle. "Just don't tell Fia, or she'll tie you to a pole and make me sword-fight her for your freedom or something."

Her eyes went slightly hazy, and her blush intensified.

"Oi," he said, "don't tell me you're seriously considering that?"

She twitched. "D-don't be silly! I just remembered how nice it was, to be rescued by you." Her voice dropped. "Fia doesn't know how lucky she is."

"Let's not count our Hippogriffs before they hatched," he said with a glance at the river. "Besides, it's not me alone rescuing her."

"That's right! Oh, I'll mock her horned highness about needing my help forever." Her gleeful smile faded as she gave him a self-conscious look. "I mean, I _could_ mock her—if I was a petty person, which I'm not. That would be stooping to her level."

He turned away to hide his smile. "On that note, shall we get moving?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Let's."

He levitated the boat to the shore. Climbing in, he appropriated the front seat—nothing but a slat connecting the boat's gunwales—and waited for Gabrielle to settle in the back. She appeared more animated than ever since landing in this plane.

"Alright, cast the charm." He frowned when she raised her wand, then lowered it. "Gabby?"

"Can you... say something first?" She leaned over, her cheeks flushed under the bubble, and whispered into his ear.

His eyebrows rose, yet he obediently stood and planted a foot atop the seat. Glancing back and receiving an encouraging nod, he cleared his throat self-consciously.

"Make full sail!"

"Aye aye, captain!" she cried.

The boat lurched forward, and Harry with it, nearly toppling face-first into the lava. Steadying himself against the gunwale, he took his seat and waved off Gabrielle's anxious apology.

Despite its immense weight, the boat barely sank into the lava, bobbing ever-so-slightly. The iron under his hand remained cool. He gestured to Gabrielle, and she tapped the boat's stern, propelling it more gently.

He faced the front. It was slow going, and for every yard crosswise they drifted five downstream, but it wasn't like they had to land in a particular spot: anywhere along the opposite shore would do.

The air grew hotter the farther they sailed, although with the Flame-Freezing Charms protecting them, he could only gauge the temperature by the haze of heat wafting off the lava. He reluctantly cast a Bubble-Head Charm, further worsening the visibility, and readjusted the tricorne atop it.

"Yo-ho-ho!" he said, glancing back.

Gabrielle giggled and recast the charm. The boat jerked forward, its bow dipping into the lava, then sailed onward steadily.

It was when they reached the faster-flowing middle of the river that they hit something with a resounding gong. The boat listed, causing them to clutch the gunwales for support.

He scrutinized the hull for damage and the river ahead for obstacles yet saw neither. Swiveling around, he exchanged an uneasy look with Gabrielle. They remained tense and alert until the swaying of the boat subsided.

He breathed out in relief. "Must've been a rock—"

_Gong_. The boat listed again, vibrating under Harry's palms. He looked around anxiously and did a double-take: a large mound rose from the lava to their left, emanating ripples. The surface broke in a spray of molten droplets, and a spiny neck the thickness of a tree trunk burst upward. Atop it sat a serpent's head with blazing pupil-less eyes and curved horns.

For a second, Harry and the fiery serpent regarded each other in silence. Then the creature hissed like a boiling teakettle and lunged.

He dropped to the deck, feeling the heat above him as the serpent hurtled over the boat and dived back into the lava on the opposite side.

"Avast!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand. "'Tis a sea serpent!"

"You don't have to keep that up!" Gabrielle cried, hunching down and casting her gaze around fearfully.

The serpent reemerged in a spray of molten rock. Leaping over the boat, it coiled around its middle, its scales scraping sparks from the metal. The hull sank lower. The serpent looped around, but before it could add another coil, Harry launched a ribbon of purple energy at its neck. Its fiery scales cracked, and he had to cover his face from a spatter of its glowing blood.

The boat tilted as the serpent unwound from it and submerged, thrashing furiously. Harry lowered his sleeve; the blood fizzed and smoked on his robes, but owing to the Flame-Freezing Charm, didn't set them ablaze.

A whistling hiss was his only warning before flames consumed his field of vision. He flinched before realizing that they too did no damage. Another serpent had popped up ahead and was spewing fire. Without thinking, he retaliated with a jet of cool water.

The water exploded into steam, tossing him backward, only Gabrielle's hand on his collar keeping him aboard. He gasped out a thanks, but couldn't hear his own voice through the ringing in his ears. A thin crust of rock was sinking into the river ahead; the water had cooled it enough to solidify.

Another serpent's head emerged from the lava, then one more, and they spewed flames in concert. He erected a shield and motioned Gabrielle to propel the boat. They sailed swiftly downstream, but the serpents followed, undulating along the surface.

He let loose a hail of curses. The serpents' scales proved remarkably resistant, and for each he picked off, two more joined the pursuit. Every time Gabrielle made for the shore, torrents of fire pushed them back, while serpents below the surface rammed the boat, coming ever closer to toppling it.

He shaded his eyes as his shield weathered another torrent of fire. Sweat was evaporating from his brow; the Flame-Freezing Charms were giving out.

_Gong_. The boat juddered as the largest serpent yet wrapped around its bow and bared its glowing maw. In a flash of inspiration, he jabbed his wand down its throat, conjured a lump of ice, and kicked its lower jaw. The serpent jerked back, while he lost his footing and fell on his arse.

It was just as well, because an instant later, an explosion scattered sizzling blood and razor-sharp scales over the river. Straightening up, he saw a convulsing lower half of the serpent get torn apart by its own kind. The ice must have instantly boiled into steam inside its stomach.

Gabrielle said something, but his hearing hadn't recovered yet. There was a nasty gash on her cheek, which he fussed over, but she gestured briskly at the shore and returned to steering.

He faced forward and immediately had to shield them from more flames. Never mind scaring the monsters away, his stunt only turned them more ferocious. Some were busy devouring their dead kin, but most threw themselves at the boat with mindless fury.

He swore and windmilled his arms to keep his balance as the boat listed. Renewing the shield, he conjured a giant block of ice and levitated it mid-air. Wisps of vapor rose off its surface, measurably cooling the surroundings.

Gabrielle exclaimed and waved frantically, but he only smirked. Just as his shield crumbled under the attacks, he banished the ice deep into the thick of the serpents and dived over her protectively.

The explosion rocked the boat and launched a fountain of lava high into the air. Even through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the shrill hisses of the serpents. He held onto the trembling Gabrielle until the boat steadied enough to sit up.

Waves still rippled from the site of the blast. Most serpents writhed in pain or drifted lifelessly downstream. He checked the hull—warped, scratched, and glowing with heat, but whole—then looked over Gabrielle.

"You alright?" he mouthed.

She nodded feebly, swallowed, nodded again. A tap of her wand set the boat sailing. The keel glided over a twitching serpent, and it raised its head weakly, but his Knockback Jinx dunked it into the lava, and it didn't resurface.

They left the serpents behind and entered the cooler, slower currents near the shore. Gabrielle pushed them faster, eager to cross the treacherous river, and in minutes, the bow banged into rock, bringing them to a jarring halt.

Harry clambered onto the shore and helped Gabrielle out. She practically collapsed into his arms. He ushered her away, casting wary glances over his shoulder. The current tugged at the boat until it slipped off the shore and drifted off. He let it be. In an hour or two, it would sink and hide the evidence of their passage.

He undid the Bubble-Head Charm and wiped his forehead, noting absently that he had lost his tricorne at some point. The terrain looked much the same, except that the mountains in the distance became clearer without the smoke distorting the view. He lead Gabrielle to a barren cliff, and under its cover, they healed the nicks left by the shrapnel from the serpent's scales.

Gabrielle dropped her rucksack and slumped down beside. Digging around inside it, she pulled out a flask and drank deeply.

His eyebrows rose. "Is that alcohol?"

She swallowed quickly and coughed. "It's just gillywater! I... have a bit of a thing for it."

"Oh," he said, mildly disappointed. "After what happened, I wouldn't have said no to something stronger."

"It was insane," she agreed. "The boat, the explosion, everything! What were we thinking, coming here?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Well..."

"Oh, you know what I mean. We're not even close to whoever kidnapped Fia, and we already nearly died several times." She lowered her gaze. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... do you really think we can do this? Rescue her, I mean?"

"I do." He smiled when she looked up, seemingly surprised by his certainty. "I've been told I perform best under pressure. Getting stranded in hell sure counts."

She shook his head at his blithe attitude, then furrowed her brow. "Stranded? I thought you could open a portal home."

"I could _try_. You saw what happened—even if it works, we could end up anywhere. But that's beside the point; Fia can do it properly, and I never intended to leave without her." He considered his next words. "You're not regretting coming along, are you?"

"No," she said, looking him in the eye. "I said I'd stay with you until the end, and I will."

"And I appreciate that." He extended a hand. "Can you go on? I want to at least get away from here. We made too much noise." Already swiveling eyeballs were watching them from the clouds, and even though the blimp-monsters never showed any inclination to descend, he would feel a lot safer out of their sight.

Gabrielle took a deep breath, clasped his hand, and allowed him to haul her up. She dusted off her butt, donned her rucksack, and looked at him expectantly. Smiling proudly, he started for the mountains.

Neither talked much, opting to save their breath for walking. They had to weave around some hills to avoid climbing their precarious, debris-strewn slopes, but despite the winding route, the mountains steadily grew larger. It was difficult to gauge the time or distance, but they couldn't have walked very far. The horizon itself had to be closer than on Earth.

The response from the amulet felt markedly stronger. He wanted to push on, but his legs were so wobbly he had stumbled several times in the past hour, and Gabrielle wasn't faring much better. After they stopped for a break in a shadowy gorge between two cliffs, neither felt like moving again, so they decided to camp there for the night. Or whatever passed for night in this place.

He scooped out a niche in the cliff and stretched a tarp over it. Inside, he gouged out a smaller recess and filled it with ice to reduce the sweltering heat. Gabrielle warded the shelter to be unnoticeable from the outside and lit the inside with floating lights. After hours of dim twilight, their brightness was welcome, cheering him up and even lessening his fatigue.

Sheltered from the sulfurous winds, Gabrielle undid her Bubble-Head Charm and shook out her matted hair. She set up the camping stove and mulled over their food supply.

"Let me handle dinner," he said, crouching beside.

She tilted her head skeptically. "Can you even cook?"

"Hey," he said indignantly, "I'll have you know I make a mean beef stew."

"I didn't pack any beef," she said apologetically. "Can you make anything else?"

"Loads of stuff! Like scrambled eggs... or pasta... or sandwiches..." He considered the selection of ingredients with a growing sense of dismay. Fish, blue cheese, shallots... Gabrielle had been responsible for stocking up on food for the trip, and he hadn't counted on their tastes being quite this different.

She patted his shoulder, looking like she was trying not to laugh. "I'll make a simple bouillabaisse. You can figure something out tomorrow."

Grumbling under his breath, he got out of her way and cast about for something to do. His robes were riddled with holes from the splatters of serpent blood and lava, and the shirt and trousers underneath were just as bad off, so he stripped to his underwear and laid them across his lap to mend them.

The clacking of the knife that had filled the shelter for the past few minutes ceased, prompting him to look up. Gabrielle gazed at him, licking her lips absently. He raised his eyebrows. She flushed and assaulted the vegetables with renewed vigor.

He returned to waving his wand over his shirt, producing mismatched patches over the holes. "Reparo. Reparo. Reparo..."

There was an appetizing sizzle as Gabrielle chucked the vegetables into a heated pan. He glanced up and found her watching him again. She extended her hand.

"Oh, give that here," she said, sounding flustered. "You have to be gentler with your wrist motion when mending fabric."

He shrugged and handed over his shirt. In contrast to his, her Mending Charm restored the fabric to its previous state without any unsightly patches.

"You're really good," he said.

Her cheeks pinkened. "Thanks," she said, handing the shirt back. Then she glanced down her front and frowned. "I better do mine too."

While she mended their clothes, he wiped himself down with a damp towel and wrapped it around his waist. By the time they finished their respective tasks, the food was done. He wolfed down several bowls, and Gabrielle wasn't far behind; the day had been exhausting.

After scraping her bowl clean, Gabrielle glanced at the floating lights, then at him. Turning her back to him, she began to unbutton her robes. "I should wipe too," she murmured. "Using cleaning charms day after day is too harsh on the skin."

He perked up. "Let me help."

Her fingers stopped. "There's no need—"

"Come on. It feels like you're the one doing everything." He retrieved a fresh towel and wet it with conjured water.

"Well..." She shifted on her feet. "If you insist."

Glancing back at him shyly, she quickly stripped naked and sat down. He crawled closer on his knees and touched the damp towel to her shoulders. That first contact made her stiffen, but as he began to wash her, tension drained from her body.

He wiped her pale nape, along the shoulders, and up her slender arms in turn. Then he washed her back, rinsed and wrung out the towel, and circled to her front. As he dabbed gently at her sweaty forehead, she sighed contentedly and closed her eyes.

He slowly moved down her neck, collarbone, and to her breasts. Gabrielle trembled as he lingered there.

"Too cold?" he asked.

"It's fine," she said, a little breathless. "Just..."

He caressed her through the towel. "Yes?"

She squirmed in place. "That spot is already clean."

"Just making sure," he said, grinning.

Leaving her small nipples hard, he proceeded to her taut stomach and down one leg, wiping meticulously behind the knee and between each toe. Then he made his way up her other leg. Her breathing quickened, and she spread her legs wider. As the cool towel brushed her inner thigh, she shivered and bit her lip.

Unable to contain himself, he leaned in to capture her lips. She gasped and began to kiss him back, but then there was a peculiar fluttering noise, and her eyes flew wide open. She jerked away and craned her neck to look behind her.

"Oh no..." She scooted backward to her folded robes, hiding her back from him. "D-don't look!"

"What's wrong?" he asked, taken aback.

"It—they—well..." Draping her robes over her shoulders, she buried her face in her hands. "My wings came out."

He found himself momentarily stumped for words. Coming closer, he sat cross-legged beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Oh, Gabby. They're a part of you, so as far as I'm concerned, they're wonderful. Why do they bother you so much?"

She lowered her hands to peek at him. "No one in my family has wings," she mumbled. "Just some feathers. My sister teased me to no end when they first came out. I was around twelve, I think... I woke up after a strange dream with a bunch of loose feathers in my bed, panicked, and barged into her bedroom crying."

"She was probably jealous," he scoffed.

She sent him a droll look. "No, she wasn't. To a veela, it's an embarrassment when her feathers come out. It means she lost control over her nature."

"Oh," he said, not displeased.

"Stop grinning! It's excusable for a girl going through puberty and unaccustomed to her heritage, not an adult like me." She drew the robes tighter over herself. "It's this damned place. Ever since we came here, my nature has been... coming to the fore to resist it. My senses are keener, I can call my flames easier, and..." She shot him an abashed glance.

His lips quirked up. "You're horny?"

She slapped his shoulder. "No!" Blushing up to the roots of her golden hair, she looked away. "Maybe. A little. Shut up!"

Suppressing a laugh, he patted her head. "Didn't say a word."

Still hiding her face, Gabrielle gradually loosened up and nestled against his side. The wings under her robes rustled, piquing his curiosity.

"Can I touch them?" he asked.

Startled, she searched his face, then averted her eyes. "J-just a little, then." With a quavering exhalation, she allowed her robes to fall and turned her back to him.

The wings were diminutive, not much larger than his palm, attached on either side of her spine a few inches apart. Their white feathers gleamed in the light, long and sleek on the outside, and small and downy toward the bone. Fia's nickname for her was apt, he reflected with a private grin.

He brushed his fingers down her spine between them; she twitched away.

"Sorry—"

"I was just surprised," she reassured. "Um, do it quickly, alright?"

He experimentally traced the wings' bottom, the feathers rustling softly as they tickled his palms. Then he did the same along the down-covered upper part. Gabrielle's breath hitched, and her wings fluttered, seemingly of their own accord.

He caressed the downy feathers just below the wing bones. They were warm and so fluffy his fingers sank into them.

She gasped and leaned back into his touch. "_Ça alors_!"

He paused in surprise, then splayed out his fingers and scratched lightly. "Is this good?"

"Oh, _yes_," she moaned. Then, as if catching herself, she tittered and added in a more even tone, "It's quite nice."

Smiling, he traveled lower and stroked between the feathers in tiny up-and-down motions. Her wings spread wider, trembling lightly.

"Um, haven't you had enough?" she asked breathlessly.

"Should I stop?" he whispered, stilling his fingers.

She gave a little groan and flapped her wings. Chuckling, he resumed petting her. Her breathing quickened, and a flush crept up her neck. He leaned in to plant a kiss on her nape, and keeping one hand on her wing, snaked the other around to her breast.

"_Ah_... Harry?"

Nuzzling her neck, he kneaded her breast, then rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned and reclined into him. He ventured lower, to the junction of her thighs, and found her hot and wet. His touch sent a shiver through her, and she clasped his wrist with a gasp.

He freed his hand, took hers, and brought it lower. "Touch yourself," he whispered into her ear.

Her hand remained still for several moments, then began to move. She whimpered, obviously trying to stifle her voice. Pleased, he returned to lavishing her wings with loving caresses.

"They feel so nice," he murmured. "Soft and fluffy."

The wings spread out, folded, spread out again. He scratched close to their fluffy base, tenderly but not giving her a moment of reprieve. Gabrielle moaned and trembled. He could see her slender shoulder flex as she rubbed herself.

Soon her back arched, and her wings spread out as far as they would go. A soft cry escaped her lips, and she flapped rapidly as if trying to take off, smacking him in the face. He snorted in surprise and let go. A tiny white feather drifted to the floor.

She slumped back into his arms and caught her breath, her skin flushed. Her wings stirred every now and then, tickling his abdomen. Tilting back her head, she tried to meet his gaze.

"Thanks. For, um, not finding my wings weird." She faced away. "To think it would feel so good to have them touched..."

"I told you," he said, hugging her from behind. "Every part of you is wonderful."

"I just hope they go away after a night's sleep," she said. "They always did before, but you touched them so much they might just decide to stay this time."

He snorted at her strange logic. "Would that be so bad?"

"Of course," she said with a note of horror. "I would have to replace my entire wardrobe!"

He laughed; she huffed before laughing too. She relaxed in his embrace for a time before turning around and pecking him on the lips.

He kissed back. Her hands began to wander his body, tracing the muscles of his chest, then straying lower. The slow, tender kisses grew heated. Once she touched the towel covering his crotch, she inhaled sharply and drew back.

"Love me," she said, peering at him with half-lidded eyes. "Make me forget we're in this blighted place."

He growled and tugged her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drank him in with an almost desperate desire. Hooking her legs around his waist, she pressed herself even closer. He moaned against her mouth as she pinned his erection to his stomach.

She locked her hazy eyes with his and rocked against him. "Harry." Her soft hand slipped under the towel and grasped his cock. "Please."

"Yeah—just let me—" He tried awkwardly to tug the damn towel off.

She gave an impatient noise and sliced it with her talons, then froze as if shocked by her own daring. "I—I'll mend it later," she stammered. "It's... alright, isn't it?"

Panting in anticipation, he lifted her by the hips. She angled his cock at her glistening entrance and sank onto him with a quivering moan. He wasn't quite able to suppress his own moan as her wet heat enveloped him.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she wiggled her hips to take him deeper. Once he was fully sheathed inside her, she began rocking gently against him.

He rested his forehead against hers. The pupils of her blue eyes were dark and wide. They touched everywhere, and their ragged breaths mingled.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "I love feeling this close."

"I do too," he whispered.

His hands tightened on her hips to help her gyrate against him. Little pants of pleasure escaped her lips. A sheen of sweat coated her flushed skin, and strands of hair stuck to her forehead. Her smell, the heat of her skin, and the embrace of her silken depths consumed his senses.

"Wish we could... stay together... forever," she gasped out.

"I'm not going anywhere." He kissed along her jaw. "Not letting you go."

"Promise," she said, sounding oddly vulnerable.

He looked into her eyes. "I promise, Gabby."

The thin rim of sky-blue around her pupils almost seemed to glow. Their eyes remained locked, and they breathed in tandem. Her fingers clawed his shoulders as she now moved with a needy urgency. Her insides fluttered around him. The look of bliss on her face was mesmerizing.

Her lips parted wide, and she clutched him in a desperate embrace. "_Harry_," she moaned as if pouring all her emotion into his name, hot needy spasms rippling through her body.

Her climax set his off, and squeezing her to himself, he grunted her name. During those precious moments, nothing else existed but him and her.

They stayed intertwined, basking in each other's presence. Gabrielle's face shone, and despite its disheveled state, her hair seemed to regain the sheen that had dulled during their exhausting journey.

He chuckled as a stray thought entered his mind.

"What is it?" she asked dreamily.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Just that we need wiping down all over again."


	21. Hell, Part Four

An irritating gabble roused Harry from his sleep. Opening his eyes, he glanced around but was unable to place it. Gabrielle snoozed, soft and warm at his side. The tarp covering their shelter flapped slightly in a breeze, letting in the stench of sulfur. The noises were coming from outside.

Extricating himself without waking her, he pulled on his trousers, grabbed his wand, and crept to the entrance. He nudged aside the tarp and froze.

One of their rucksacks was ripped apart, and its contents were scattered across the gorge. A dozen loincloth-clad imps rifled through them, fighting over anything shiny or edible and jabbering in hellspeak. One pulled a pair of Gabrielle's knickers onto his head, causing the others to erupt in cackles. A corpulent imp twice the size of the rest had one hand in a jar of jam and was bellowing what sounded like orders between greedy mouthfuls.

Harry swore under his breath; he must have left the rucksack outside the wards that hid their shelter from prying eyes. His ire piqued, he stepped out into the open and flung jinxes at the imps.

Pandemonium ensued as the imps dropped whatever they were holding, and squealing like pigs, zigzagged through the air. Once they caught on that he wasn't aiming to kill, they regrouped and retaliated with pebbles. He yelped and shielded his face.

"That's our stuff!" he yelled. "Give it back before I rip your ugly heads off!"

"That a _human_?" exclaimed an imp.

"Human, human!" the others chorused.

"Round ears! _Creeepy_!" The imp who made that proclamation folded his pointy ears with his fingers to mimic Harry's.

"Is it true humans dig roots from dirt and eat them?"

"Must be, look! No fangs!"

"Harry?" Gabrielle called, peeking half-naked from the shelter. At the sight of the imps, she gasped and hid behind the tarp.

"Another human?" said an imp.

"Where, where? I hears it but don't sees it!"

Harry motioned to her to stay inside and lobbed jinxes at the imps who flew toward her voice. Zipping away, they blew raspberries at him and made crude gestures.

Glowering, he swept his wand in a broad arc and chanted the Anti-Flight Jinx. The imps screeched as they plummeted to the ground, their bat-like wings flapping uselessly. Walking up to the nearest one, he yanked him up by the throat and shook him at his comrades.

"Last warning, you little shits! I better not see anything missing!"

The imp in Harry's grip thrashed and sniveled. A hush fell over the rest. The one with the knickers atop his head started pulling them off.

Gabrielle growled. "Those are mine, you pervert!" Stalking into the open with a blanket clutched to her chest, she peppered the offending imp with Stinging Jinxes. He yowled in pain, but oddly enough, sported a toothy grin as he did.

"Oi, you great sacks of worm-flesh," said a voice deeper than the rest. "Let Zop and Zot go, and I might spare your puny lives."

Harry swiveled toward the largest imp, who waddled closer clutching the jar of jam. Most of the demon's mass was concentrated in his prodigious belly, while his upper half wasn't that much larger than his lackeys'. His wings fluttered in vain, comically tiny on his corpulent frame.

"Leave our stuff and scram, and I'll spare yours," Harry countered.

The imp snorted derisively. "This is my turf, you lanky streak of piss. Do you even know who you're speaking to?"

He sized the demon up. "An imp?"

"An imp?" the imp cried, its double chin wobbling. "_An_ _imp_? I'll have you know I'm the great Qelnaaz, former kennel master of the Dread Citadel! If one classified my distinguished breed, it would be nothing less than a greater imp, thank you very much!"

Harry tilted his head. "So... still an imp."

Qelnaaz sputtered, his face turning a shade of puce that would be impossible on a human. "That's it. That's it, no more mister nice demon." He jabbed a jam-smeared finger at Harry. "I wanted to talk at length to the first otherplanar visitors we got in decades, but you've overstepped the mark. I'll teach you why they call me the Horned Scourge of the Wastes!"

"Who calls you that, boss?" chirped another imp.

Not acknowledging the question, Qelnaaz took up the stance of a sumo wrestler and puffed up even more. His chubby hands shook as he raised them over his head. "Now tremble before my awesome power and be obliterated!"

Harry tossed aside the imp he had been choking and raised his wand. Gabrielle did likewise. He gestured her to wait, overtaken by some morbid curiosity.

Sweat beaded on the greater imp's brow as he huffed like a steam engine. A small orb of black flames sparked between his grubby fingers. "Behold true hellfire, the harbinger of your doom!"

Harry observed for a few seconds, expecting the flames to grow, but they stayed about the size of a Snitch. The imps must've misinterpreted his inaction for stunned terror because they crowed and jeered. Rolling his eyes, he stepped closer and poked the hellfire, causing it to fizzle out.

A deathly silence fell. Qelnaaz tilted his head back to stare between his palms, then gaped at Harry. His fat lips trembled.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You were saying?"

Qelnaaz fell to his knees and prostrated himself. "Mercy, my lord! Forgive me for not recognizing your illustrious personage. It is my ignorant underlings who are at fault, I swear by Beelzebub! They came across your belongings and ransacked them without thought." Swiveling his horned head, he barked, "Oi, you dumb piles of shit! Return his lordship's things at once and beg him to have mercy on your scaly arses!"

"Er," Harry said, a little taken aback, "as long as you understand."

The imps exploded into action, scurrying across the gorge to gather their belongings, then swearing and shoving to be the first to present them to him and Gabrielle. Qelnaaz contemplated the jar of jam, and with obvious reluctance, offered it to Harry.

His lip curled in disgust. "You can keep that."

Qelnaaz blinked, then bowed so low his pointy nose scraped the ground. "Many thanks, my lord! You're as generous as you are forbearing to your inferiors. May your dark powers grow and your enemies choke on their—"

"And skip the groveling," he said, not unamused.

Qelnaaz grinned toothily. "Appreciate it, m'lord. Truth be told, I haven't had to kowtow for half a century, so I'm terribly out of practice." He stuck his hand into the jar, scooped up some jam, and deposited it into his mouth with relish. "Bit of an embarrassing showing. I can do better, if you give me time to think up some praises."

An imp crawled over on his knees and proffered a flask. Harry gestured to put it in a growing pile nearby. Another imp with welts all over his skin shakily held up a pair of rumpled panties to Gabrielle. She swished her wand briskly, and flames consumed the undergarment, making the imp shriek in dismay.

"No way would I wear those now," she said.

Qelnaaz eyed her bare legs and let out a low whistle. She held the blanket tighter to herself and rounded on him.

"Forgive me, fair lady, I was lost in admiring your beauty," Qelnaaz said, sketching a bow that made his belly wobble. "Your exquisite grace lights a fire in my—"

"Just shut up," she said wearily. "I'll go dress."

"Righto," Qelnaaz said. "Silent as the Great Lake of Quicksilver, I am." He shook a fist at his lackeys. "Oi, dung-for-brains! Stop ogling the lady and collect the stuff!"

While the imps hastened to return their gear and food—most of it, in any case—Harry pondered the ripped rucksack. The physical damage could be repaired, but the lightening and space-expansion enchantments were too tricky to recreate on the spot. In the end, he decided to leave the non-essential items to the imps, who promptly started praising him, and transfer the rest into the remaining rucksack. Gabrielle reemerged shortly and helped him pack.

Qelnaaz watched them beadily while slurping up the jam. After emptying the jar, he chucked it aside, bonking another imp on the head, and burped loudly. Then he appropriated a half-eaten rasher from his lackey and munched on it while continuing to stare.

"You smell weird," he remarked. "Like a human but also like us."

"Must be the sulfur on my clothes," Harry said defensively.

"If you say so, m'lord." Qelnaaz slunk closer to Gabrielle and sniffed. "The woman smells funny too. Odiously unhellish, and..." His lips quirked. "Heh, you fucking?" He elbowed Harry's leg. "You giving it to her good?"

The surrounding imps snickered. "They fucking, they fucking!"

Gabrielle blushed beet-red, while Harry slapped his forehead. What were they, schoolchildren?

"Will you be quiet?" he said exasperatedly.

"Oi, shut it!" Qelnaaz roared. "How dare you spew such obscenities in a lady's presence?"

The imps quieted down, exchanging grins and hushed comments in their tongue. Qelnaaz nodded self-importantly and looked up at Harry.

"So, what are two humans doing traipsing about the Sixth Circle?" He hurriedly inclined his head. "If I may ask, m'lord."

Harry glanced toward the mountains, then at Gabrielle. She shrugged as if leaving the decision to him. He eyed Qelnaaz thoughtfully. It was a risk, but one he had to take if he didn't want to go in blind.

"You wouldn't happen to know a demon by the name of Andras, would you?" he asked, surreptitiously reaching for his wand.

Whispers rolled through the imps. Qelnaaz's beady eyes narrowed further, and he spat on the ground. "And what would you want with that wolf-shagging, fetid-smelling birdbrain? Um, begging your ladyship's pardon."

He tried not to show his elation. "I take it you don't like him much?"

"Wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire! Just because I filched some wine from his cellar, the pompous beak-mouth exiled me to the wilderness to waste away. Another decade, and there'll only be skin and bones of me left!"

Harry eyed the imp's protruding belly but refrained from commenting. "You were a servant of his, then?"

"Maybe I was," Qelnaaz said cagily. "What's it to you? M'lord."

"He took something of mine," he said curtly. "Can you tell me where to find him?"

"You have a bone to pick with the marquis?" Qelnaaz barked a laugh. "Forget it! His little finger would be enough to destroy someone like you or me." He scratched his loincloth. "Well, in your case, it might take his entire hand—but that's not much of a consolation, is it?"

"It's not," Gabrielle murmured.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm going anyway. We can part ways here, or"—Harry nudged his chin at the bulging rucksack—"you can lead me to him, and I'll give you half of our remaining food."

Qelnaaz's forked tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Well now. Well, well." He rubbed his hands. "Andras's guards are to cut me down on sight, but I'm willing to risk my neck to repay your kindness. I'll take you to the owl-face's citadel, may it collapse atop him in his sleep."

Harry grinned at Gabrielle, who didn't seem too enthused by the development, and canceled the Anti-Flight Jinx. "Then we have a deal."

"Appreciate it, m'lord," Qelnaaz said as, against common sense, his tiny wings lifted his hefty frame off the ground. He yelled at his underlings, who swiftly departed through the mouth of the gorge.

"Where are they going?" Harry asked, fingering his wand.

"Just a moment, m'lord, just a moment," Qelnaaz said, bobbing up and down.

Several minutes later, the imps returned hauling an ornate platform mounted on long horizontal poles. A bench was affixed atop the platform, sheltered by a domed roof on four carved posts. In contrast to its ostentatious design, the vehicle was quite filthy and stained.

The imps flew up to them and halted mid-air, flapping constantly. One handed Qelnaaz a whip with obvious reluctance. Qelnaaz gestured grandly at the litter; Harry gave him a skeptical look.

"You didn't think I'd make one of your standing walk across the Forest of Brambles, did you?" Qelnaaz said proudly. "Haven't used the thing in decades, but it should get us where we need, alright."

Harry shrugged; it beat walking. He stepped up to the litter and held out a hand to Gabrielle to assist her inside.

She wrinkled her nose and vanished the grime off the bench before bracing on his hand and climbing in. The imps squeaked as the litter sank toward the ground.

"Ah, looks good as new," Qelnaaz said. "Nothing quite like a woman's touch." He was about to sit on the bench next to Gabrielle but wilted under her glare. Sighing, he flew higher. "I'll take the roof."

Harry threw the rucksack onto the platform and climbed on to take his seat. The litter plunged lower, and the imps swore angrily as they struggled to keep it aloft.

"Put your backs into it!" Qelnaaz cracked the whip over their heads and unleashed what sounded like a litany of curses in hellspeak. Then again, most hellspeak sounded like curses.

Gabrielle winced in sympathy and tapped herself and Harry with her wand, lightening their weight. The litter shot up and listed, and she bumped into him with a gasp.

"Steady, you brainless apes!" Qelnaaz cried, his dirty legs swinging from the edge of the roof. "Tip us over like last time, and I'll rip off your wings!"

The imps jabbered to one another, and creaking and groaning, the litter leveled out. Its front turned ponderously toward the mountains, and they took off.

With a strained huff, Qelnaaz bent over to peer inside the litter. "Nicely magicked, but don't make it too easy on the bums. They need to be worked hard every once in a while or they'll grow lazy."

Harry suspected the imp just missed the opportunity to use his whip. "This isn't a pleasure ride. Get us there as fast as you can."

"As you say." The whip whistled through the air, landing on an imp's back. "You heard him, louts! Get a move on!"

They gained speed. The rapid flapping of wings filled the air, occasionally interspersed by a crack of the whip and the whine of an unfortunate imp. Harry glanced at the ground passing under them; for such a primitive mode of transport, it was faster than he expected.

"He's being awfully cruel," Gabrielle said, peering at the imps with concern.

"I'm sure they're used to it," Harry said, reclining against the backrest. When she frowned at him, he lowered his voice. "Fia told me about imps. They lie, cheat, swindle, and shirk orders on principle. It's in their nature."

She clasped her hands in her lap. "Why can't they just be nicer to each other?"

"That's how their world works." And often their own, he didn't say.

She sighed and fell silent. The litter gradually rose above the hills breaking up the landscape, then cruised onward with remarkable smoothness, its dozen-or-so bearers chanting in tune with their wingbeats.

Harry's stomach gurgled, reminding him that they hadn't had breakfast. They dug around in the rucksack for some bread and cheese and had a hurried meal. Eating under the envious stares of the imps was just too awkward.

Brushing the crumbs off his lap, he squinted at the skies. A flock of pterodactyls was approaching from the front right.

"Qel," he called.

"Yah, m'lord?" the imp said, bending down.

He pointed. "Are those going to be a problem?"

Qelnaaz looked that way and chuckled. "The vultures? Nothing to worry about, as long as I've got this." The whip cracked loudly. "Beasts around here are deathly terrified of this noise. All them princes and presidents going on rides have destroyed every vulture dumb enough to assault them. The rest learned to steer clear."

Harry kept his wand at the ready nevertheless, but true to Qelnaaz's word, the flock gave the litter a wide berth. Gabrielle released a breath and snuggled into his side. He hugged her around the shoulders and stretched out his legs. The imps' frenetic pace ate up the miles, and soon he made out individual mountains from the range towering ahead. The litter headed toward the closest and smallest of the lot.

Gabrielle dozed off about an hour into the journey, but he remained vigilant. Their surroundings gradually changed. Swaths of umber soil appeared among the rock, then the first plants he had seen in this plane: brown cactus-like bulbs, barbed vines creeping along the ground, and eventually spiky trees that lacked any leaves. Once, he glimpsed something like a bristly boar that glared at them with glowing eyes before plodding out of sight. Harsh and dry as this land was, it could be called abundant compared to the barrens they left behind.

Qelnaaz stooped to peer into the litter, his eyes lingering on Gabrielle in a manner that Harry didn't like. As if sensing his ire, the imp grinned cheekily, slid off the roof, and hovering before him, gestured ahead.

"Not much farther, m'lord. You should be able to see Andras's citadel now, may he get ripped apart by randy behemoths."

He peered at the black mountain. "A citadel? I don't—" His brain suddenly recognized the black cliffs for walls and spires, and he gasped. "Blimey, that's enormous."

Qelnaaz spat. "The venerable owl-face _does_ command thirty legions, believe it or not. One or two are garrisoned up there at all times."

Harry tried to recall how large a legion was and groaned.

"Now now, don't lose heart," Qelnaaz said slyly. "There's a backdoor that you can use to sneak in right under their sodden noses."

He narrowed his eyes. "That seems awfully convenient."

"Only because you have the wise and knowledgeable Qelnaaz to guide you," the imp said, puffing up. "I'll show you a secret passage that leads from outside the walls right into the main keep. What you do from there is your business."

Gabrielle squeezed his hand, and glancing her way, he saw that she was awake and listening. He nodded resolutely. "Take us there."

The imp bowed mid-air. "With pleasure. As long as you manage to piss off the feather-head, the risk will have been worthwhile."

Rather than get back on the roof, Qelnaaz flew beside the litter, scanning the brambly forest ahead. At his order, they descended and weaved through the spiky trees, following each dip and rise of the terrain. The imps' chant quieted, and Qelnaaz no longer cracked his whip.

Through the thinning branches, the citadel came into view. Made of glossy black obsidian or something alike, it appeared to be carved into the mountain rather than built atop, with twisting walls that followed no architect's plan. Narrow windows were cut into the rock at uneven distances, most pitch-black.

Qelnaaz barked an order, and an imp from each side of the litter let go and zipped off into the forest. Harry looked askance at him.

"Scouts," the imp explained. "Making sure the area is clear."

The retreating imps disappeared between the trees. The litter slowed and descended until its bottom skimmed the umber soil. Upon reaching the end of the tree line, Qelnaaz spoke sharply, and with relieved squeaks, the bearers set the litter down.

Harry massaged his stiff legs and clambered out. Past the trees spanned a rocky plain, beyond which loomed the nigh-vertical wall of the citadel. Even from distance, he had to tilt his head back to see its pointed spires; they almost speared the clouds. Humanoid figures were moving along the twisted battlements. There were gates of mind-boggling size at the bottom, currently closed.

"We'll go on foot from here," Qelnaaz said. "Well, you wingless humans will." He cackled, but at their unamused glances, quickly quieted down. "The passage is at the foot of the wall over there. I assume you have magic to veil us from the sentries. If not, we'll have to sneak around the long way."

"Not a problem," Harry said, peering at the spot Qelnaaz pointed out. The wall there appeared as smooth as everywhere else. "As long as you're sure there's an entrance there."

"Please," Qelnaaz gasped, laying a hand on his chest. "Have I toiled away in that stinking bird-head's castle for two centuries or not?"

Gabrielle leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear. "I don't trust him."

The imp's pointy ears twitched, but he didn't show any other sign of having heard her.

Harry shrugged. "Me neither, but it's not like we have much of a choice. Let's Disillusion ourselves and get going."

Gabrielle pursed her lips but did not argue. Harry let her cast the charm over the three of them and eyed his nigh-invisible hand appreciatively. The Disillusionment was close to perfect.

Qelnaaz whistled invisibly. "As good as I've seen Andras's best spellweavers spin! I'll have to hold on to you so we don't get separated."

There was a flutter of wings, and Gabrielle squeaked. Harry felt more than saw her flail her hands about as she tried to fend off the Disillusioned imp.

"Don't—don't _touch_ me," she spat.

Qelnaaz giggled. "So sorry, your ladyship, thought that was your hand—_ooh_—so very sorry, once again..."

Harry squinted at the vague blur that was Qelnaaz and grabbed him by the neck. "No groping my girlfriend, got it?"

"B-begging your pardon, m'lord," Qelnaaz gurgled. "Not much action out in the wastes, as you might imagine." As if sensing Harry's glower, he gulped audibly and pushed something thin and smooth into his palm. "Hold this and follow quietly, if you will."

Harry ran his fingers over the smooth cord and recognized the whip. He uncoiled it and blindly extended its butt for Gabrielle to grab on.

"Lead the way," he said.

The blur before Harry moved, and the whip tautened, pulling him onward. They left the scant cover of the trees and entered the gravely plain before the citadel. Harry hoped Qelnaaz knew what he was doing; even under Gabrielle's excellent charm, he was feeling rather vulnerable out in the open.

Up close, the citadel appeared even more enormous. He tilted his head back and squinted at the dizzyingly high battlements. The sentries were dog-headed demons with longbows slung over their shoulders and pricked ears that swiveled constantly.

They were halfway to the walls when his foot jammed in a crevice and he tripped, catching himself with his palms. The next instant, an arrow whooshed through the air and _twanged_ into the ground three steps ahead.

His head jerked up, his right hand tightening around his wand. A demon atop the battlements had halted and was staring in their direction, bow raised and another arrow nocked. Gabrielle inhaled sharply and gripped his shoulder.

"Stay still," he whispered, barely moving his lips.

A second demon approached the first, and Harry saw their muzzles move in conversation. Then the first demon lowered his bow, spat over the battlements, and strolled off.

Qelnaaz muttered something uncomplimentary and resumed moving. Gabrielle whispered a belated silencing charm, and the sound of their footsteps vanished. Despite the added precaution, they took care to watch their footing, so their already cautious pace slowed to a crawl.

A nerve-wracking fifteen minutes later, the walls were within reach. A blackened ditch preceded them, although its purpose was unclear since it didn't appear to have ever been filled with water. Qelnaaz pulled them across. Harry winced as their soundless steps caused pebbles to roll down the slope, but despite his unease, they soon stood by the wall without having alerted the sentries.

"Wait here," Qelnaaz whispered.

The whip in Harry's hands slackened. Oily imprints appeared along the gleaming wall where the imp patted it, muttering under his breath. Then he flew farther away, and Harry lost sight of him. Pressing his back to the wall, he nervously tapped his wand against his thigh.

Gabrielle hugged his arm, her anxious breaths loud in the eerie silence. He shifted on his feet, grimaced as the whip dangling from his hand scraped the ground, and looked up. Fortunately, no arrows fell upon their heads.

He was beginning to think they would have to find their own way in when something flashed at the base of the wall a few dozen steps away. Qelnaaz's whisper carried to his ears.

"Over here, m'lord!"

He groped for Gabrielle's hand, braced his other palm against the wall, and inched toward the imp's voice. A pitch-black hole in the wall came into sight, its jagged edges glowing faintly with glyphs like those he had painted in his blood in Grimmauld Place's basement.

Extending a hand before him, he stepped into the darkness. He couldn't see ahead at all, and when he glanced over his shoulder, even the entrance was shrouded in shadow.

"No one will see or hear us from outside," Qelnaaz said. "It should be safe, as much as it can be for a Great Marquis's enemies inside his stronghold."

Exhaling in relief, Harry made some light. They found themselves in a cramped tunnel that sloped down into the shadows. His wand failed to illuminate more than a few yards ahead; the black walls seemed to consume light.

"Finite," Gabrielle said, causing all three of them to shimmer into view.

"The passage will take you into the dungeons," Qelnaaz said. "Find the lift they use to lower food from the cellars and make your way up. This is as far as I'll go. Someone of my awesome power could take on a guard or two, of course, but even I'm not mad enough to assault a citadel. Er, no offense meant."

Harry shrugged off the rucksack, produced a bundle of food, and handed it over along with the whip. "Thank you. I won't forget this." As far as promises went, it was a safe one. He wasn't so stupid as to pledge anything concrete to a demon, not anymore.

Qelnaaz coiled the whip around his shoulder and hefted the bundle with an unctuous smile. "Happy to conspire, m'lord. I'll keep my claws crossed that you give the feathery prig a big headache." He leered at Gabrielle. "May I bother your ladyship for another of your fine veils?"

She retreated behind Harry's back before Disillusioning the imp. There was the sound of flapping wings.

"If Andras isn't out on a hunt, then he's up in the throne room or higher still in his quarters," said Qelnaaz's retreating voice. "I'd steer clear of him if I were you."

The entrance closed, leaving Harry and Gabrielle alone. He gripped the amulet under his robes and looked her in the eye. Her face was pale and drawn, but she met his gaze squarely.

"Fia's close," he said. "This is it. You up for fighting a marquis of hell?"

She worried her lip. "The fat pervert didn't seem to think much of our chances."

Harry snorted. "He also thought himself stronger than me, so his judgment is suspect. Don't worry, my priority is rescuing Fia and getting out. But if Andras wants a fight..." He pulled Gryffindor's sword from the rucksack and slung it across his back. "A fight he'll get."

Gabrielle considered him, then sighed and picked up the rucksack. "If it does come to that, I'll at least make sure you're unencumbered."

"Thanks." He faced the tunnel and took a deep breath. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Let's bring that wayward succubus home."


	22. Hell, Part Five

Their heels clacked against hard rock as they descended the tunnel's slope. The angles between the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were rounded, lending the passage the appearance of a pipe and reminding Harry disturbingly of the drains Slytherin's basilisk had used to traverse Hogwarts.

Something glinted ahead. He raised his lit wand higher but could not see what it was. Gabrielle sent forth a globe of light, and it illuminated a seemingly solid obsidian barrier. Exchanging a concerned glance, they came closer.

She swished her wand. "Aparecium. Revelio." A multitude of demonic glyphs became outlined in blue light. She beamed proudly before tapping the rock with her wand. "This must be a doorway! Alohomora. Parclaustra. Hmm... I suppose it wouldn't be that simple."

He squeezed past her and inspected the glyphs. Locating a thorny oval, he hesitantly pressed his palm to it. He was fairly certain it meant "open"—well, either that or "hunger". Fia's lessons had been haphazard and more than likely to devolve into baser activities.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked.

"Qel just touched the wall back there, and it opened." Exhaling, he pushed power into his palm. The glyph prickled his skin as if resisting; he frowned and pushed harder. Something gave, and with a grinding noise, the rock parted before them. "Aha! Figured it would be something similar."

The two halves of the barrier slid into the walls, revealing a small room hewn from the same black rock. His nose wrinkled as a stench of blood and body waste washed over him. Ensconced in a Bubble-Head Charm, Gabrielle hadn't noticed; rather than look at what lay ahead, she was staring at him.

"It recognized you for a demon?" she said uncomfortably.

He raised his eyebrows. "Only because I can use a bit of their magic."

"Right," she murmured, facing forward.

Sighing, he stepped out of the tunnel and looked around. This wasn't a room but a cell. If the rusty iron bars weren't enough of an indication, then the chains fastened to the wall with heavy rivets sure were. Waving Gabrielle through, he closed the passage.

"How horrible," she whispered, eyeing long-dried splatters of blood on the floor.

He walked up to the bars and scanned the narrow hallway beyond. The door yielded to his Unlocking Charm and swung inward with a creak that made him flinch. Sticking his head through, he peered both ways. Crimson crystals set into the ceiling at uneven intervals bathed the hallway in an eerie light that revealed dozens of cells along its length but did not penetrate their interior.

He extinguished his wand, and glancing at Gabrielle, pressed a finger to his lips. They stepped out of the cell, and turning right for no particular reason, sneaked along the dim hallway. His heartbeat was loud in his ears. Noises filtered through: the dripping of water, a stifled whimper, the scrape of claw against stone. Then chains rattled in a cell ahead, almost making him jump. Exchanging a look with the wide-eyed Gabrielle, he readied his wand and crept closer.

The fetid odor of decomposition thickened as he neared the bars. He peered into the shadowy cell and gasped. The prisoner, a hulking humanoid with a lion's head and broken horns, took up almost a third of the room. Its—no, definitely _his_, Harry amended as he glanced lower—fur was caked with blood, his countless wounds oozed pus, and he was muzzled with a metal bridle, yet his slit-pupil eyes remained sharp.

Wrenching his gaze away, Harry stepped back, but Gabrielle clutched his arm.

"We have to help him," she whispered. "All of them."

He swiveled his head and saw more prisoners rotting in the darkness of the cells. The noises intensified: the scratching of claws, rattling breaths, the jangle of chains. He touched the amulet; Fia wasn't among them. He began shaking his head, then paused and eyed the lion-man's meaty limbs speculatively.

"That's brilliant," he said slowly. "Let's release them."

The lion-man's ears pricked up.

"Really?" She bounced in place. "I didn't think you'd agree."

He smirked. "It occurred to me that a bunch of enraged prisoners fighting their way out will make for an excellent diversion."

"_Harry_," she chided in an undertone.

"They are demons, remember," he said as he tapped the bars with his wand. "If anything, they'd be suspicious if we freed them without expecting anything in return. Watch my back."

His eyes watered from the stench as he stepped inside the cell. The lion-man watched him anxiously, the chains clinking as his immense muscles tensed. Harry regarded the iron bridle, then cut it at the joint and pulled it out, exposing a mess of chipped teeth and blood.

"Episkey," he whispered.

The lion-man flinched at the light of the spell, then worked his jaw experimentally, his eyes widening.

"We're enemies of Andras," Harry said. A growl rose in the demon's throat, but when Harry lifted a finger to his lips, he fell silent. More than a dumb brute, clearly. "I can set you free, but you'll have to escape by yourself. Can you fight?"

The lion-man jutted out his chin and bared his restored fangs.

He smiled. "Will you take command of the others and lead them out?"

The lion-man peered at him for a time, then slowly inclined his head. "Yes," he slurred.

Harry's smile widened. Swishing his wand, he made short work of the chains. The freed demon slumped to the floor, panted, then scrabbled out into the hallway on all fours.

Gabrielle gave an "eep" and sidled aside, but the fear on her face was quickly replaced by concern. "You're in a terrible state, Mr. Lion," she blurted out. "Let me help."

Harry wanted to warn her not to overdo it lest the healed demon turn on them, but seeing her zeal, he held his tongue and silently readied his wand. The lion-man's wounds closed swiftly, leaving pink scars, his chipped claws regrew, and even his matted fur was left gleaming. He looked down at himself in wonder and sank to his knees.

"Spellweaver," he croaked. "Thank... you."

Gabrielle fidgeted. "I—well—you're quite welcome."

Relaxing a fraction, Harry patted her shoulder and gestured to the lion-man. "Take us around the place. Are there any guards?"

The lion-man tilted his head as if struggling to understand. "Not now... Later. Pain."

He nodded grimly. "Let's finish this before they return."

They circled the dungeons, freeing those alive, and at Gabrielle's insistence, cremating the remains of the dead. The prisoners ranged from lowly imps to large half-beast demons, although none could rival the lion-man in size.

By the time they were done, the hallway was so crammed it was hard to breathe. The demons' excited murmurs filled the air. It took Harry some effort not to show his unease at the proximity of so many claws, horns, and fangs, but he purposely kept his head high and his stance loose.

"Right, then." He considered their ragtag band before facing the lion-man. "Do you know where the lift to the cellar is?"

Everyone quieted. The lion-man frowned and slowly shook his head.

"Er... hole?" Harry pointed up. "Food?"

"I seen it," squeaked a bat-faced demon, and pointed down the hallway. "There, there!"

"Take us."

Bat-face nodded and limped off, aiding his faltering steps with flaps of torn wings. He led them around the corner, down another hallway, and to a nook barred by iron gates.

Harry spelled them open, stepped through, and lifted his lit wand. His lips quirked when he saw a duct in the ceiling. Something high above was blocking the light—likely the bottom of the lift Qelnaaz had mentioned. The duct was narrow, but they would squeeze through.

He contemplated the demons out in the hallway. The smaller ones could fit through the duct as well... but no. There was no one he could trust in this place other than Gabrielle.

Stepping out of the nook, he locked the gates again. "Take us to the exit," he said. "I'll help you break out."

Some demons didn't appear thrilled about him locking away a potential escape route, but they could hardly say anything when the rest erupted in muted cheers. The lion-man took point and guided them to unexplored parts of the prison. The hallway widened, and a slight breeze brought an almost welcome whiff of brimstone.

The lion-man's muscular arm shot out, stopping them. He growled and nudged his chin forward. Harry squinted. There were no more crystals in the ceiling ahead, so the hallway was dark. An enormous black shape loomed in the shadows, and straining his ears, he heard slow, powerful breaths.

The lion-man prowled forward, almost silent despite his size. Harry and Gabrielle followed. As Harry's vision acclimatized, he made out bristly black fur, fearsome claws, and three dog's heads atop a massive body.

A cerberus.

Harry snorted hysterically and clamped a hand over his mouth. Claws scrabbled against stone as two of the cerberus's heads rose off its paws and peered his way with yellowish eyes that seemed to glow. The two heads sniffed the air and gave a low growl, and the third awoke with a whine.

"Sing a song," he hissed. "Something calming."

"A song?" Gabrielle fidgeted. "_Now_?"

The cerberus rose and slunk toward them, its chain uncoiling, all three pairs of its eyes now glaring at their motley group. The lion-man snarled and stepped forth to meet it, but Harry grasped his log-thick arm and held him back with difficulty.

"Sing!"

Gabrielle's lips moved without a sound before she broke into what sounded like a lullaby.

_Dodo, l'enfant do,  
L'enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l'enfant do  
L'enfant dormira bientôt._

At the first faltering verses, the cerberus halted and pricked up its ears. Even some of the demons appeared entranced. Harry nodded in encouragement and motioned her to continue.

_Une poule blanche  
Est là dans la grange.  
Qui va faire un petit coco  
Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo._

Gabrielle's cheeks were red, but her voice gradually gained strength. The cerberus shook its heads and sank to its haunches, the angry luster fading from its eyes. One of its heads sagged to the ground, then the others.

_Dodo, l'enfant do,  
L'enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l'enfant do  
L'enfant dormira bientôt._

The cerberus's eyelids drooped, and snores thundered from its ajar mouth. Harry flashed Gabrielle a thumbs-up and waved the demons onward. Some appeared rather drowsy themselves, but when the lion-man barked an order, their ranks surged forward.

"Keep singing," he whispered, and kissed Gabrielle on the crown of her head. "You're brilliant."

She nodded jerkily and opened her mouth wider.

_Tout le monde est sage  
Dans le voisinage  
Il est l'heure d'aller dormir  
Le sommeil va bientôt venir._

The demons gave the snoozing cerberus as wide a berth as the hallway allowed and trooped up a set of steep stairs. Harry caught up and stood on his tiptoes to peer over their heads. A heavy iron door barred the way. Yellowish light filtered through a gap at its top, and the breeze got stronger. Gabrielle's lullaby rang in the corridor behind.

The demons parted before him without a word as he climbed higher. The door appeared to be locked from the outside. He rapped it with his knuckles, hummed thoughtfully, and looked at the lion-man.

"After I open this, the rest is up to you. Fight well."

The demon bared his fangs and thumped his chest. "Rip and tear."

He grinned. "Sounds like a plan. Ready?" He lifted a palm and began ticking off fingers. "Five... four..."

Muscles bulged under the lion-man's fur; the other demons also tensed. Upon reaching the count of one, Harry swished his wand. The massive double doors banged outward, nearly torn off their hinges. He spied a courtyard surrounded by tall walls and a yowling guard collapsed on the ground nearby before the prisoners surged forth with a chaotic battle-cry and blocked his line of sight.

He turned his back on the pandemonium and barreled down the stairs, flinching when the lion-man's roar seemed to shake the very foundation of the keep. Gabrielle was still singing, but the cerberus stirred at the noise. He dashed past its three heads, scooped her up in his arms, and raced back into the dungeons. A series of confused barks joined the noises of battle behind them.

"That should keep Andras's guards busy for a while," he said breathlessly as he set her down. "Sorry to spring it on you, but... let's just say you don't want to hear _me_ sing."

"No problem," she said, sounding a little flustered. "Although I'd imagined I would help you fight, not sing lullabies to giant three-headed dogs." She glanced over her shoulder. "How did you know a song would put it to sleep?"

"I've dealt with their kind before—during my first year at Hogwarts, believe it or not." He chuckled at her incredulous expression. "School was a madhouse. Sometimes I wonder how I survived."

She shuddered. "To think I used to beg my parents to let me transfer."

The sounds of battle faded as they retraced their steps to the lift. Unlocking the gates, Harry looked up and thrust his wand at the duct.

"Accio," he said.

A creak of wood came, but the platform far above didn't budge.

"Together?" Gabrielle asked.

He nodded. Matching their timing, they cast the Summoning Charm. Something snapped, and the platform plummeted down the duct, banging against its sides. They barely had time to jump back before it crashed in a cloud of dust. Several coils of loose rope plopped atop, still attached to the platform's middle.

Waving away the dust, Harry tested the rope dangling from above. "There's only space for one," he said. "I'll go first, then lower it for you."

Gabrielle glanced back into the hallway and wrung her hands. "Don't be long."

"It'll only be a minute." He repaired the platform under his feet and tapped the rope. "Retractum."

The rope snapped taut, and the platform jerked upward. He hunched his shoulders as he rose into the duct accompanied by groans of wood. The passage was barely wide enough to accommodate him, and the wall scraped his elbow when he stuck it out too far.

Sickly red light came from above, and he made out the same glowing crystals set into a vaulted ceiling. Soon his head rose above the floor, and he emerged among stacks of dusty crates and casks. The lift came level with the floor, and he stepped off onto rough flagstones. The cellar, presumably. Almost against his expectations, Qelnaaz's directions proved truthful.

The platform creaked and plummeted. He swore and grabbed the uncoiling rope, wincing as it burned his palms. He brought the platform to a stop, then gradually lowered it until he felt it rest on the floor below. Wary of raising his voice, he shone a light down the duct and waited until he saw Gabrielle's golden hair glint below.

He glanced around. The rope ran through a pulley by the ceiling and to a winch. Tapping the mechanism with his wand, he made it turn and haul the rope.

The creaks and groans of the lift made him nervous, but Gabrielle made her way up without incident. She hugged him in relief before looking around curiously.

"This looks almost _normal_."

"So long as it's not the blood of virgin maidens in those casks," he said dryly.

She shivered and eyed the casks with unease. "Surely not?"

"Sorry, bad joke." Living with Fiamette must've twisted his sense of humor. "The demons' tastes aren't that different from ours. There _are_ cannibals who partake in human flesh and blood, but they're the minority. Not because it's frowned upon in their society, mind—we're just not very delicious."

She dusted off her robes. "So when Fia talks about eating her enemies' hearts..."

"Ah... she's probably serious about that." He raised his palms at her alarmed look. "Not because she enjoys it! It's an intimidation tactic. Her ilk seem to think they can steal their enemy's power that way."

She made a face. "That's creepy. Has she done it before?"

"I don't think so," he said slowly. "Succubi—Lilith's daughters, as they call themselves—are more about trickery and deceit than brute strength."

She exhaled in relief. "Should've known it was all bluster."

"It's cute how she always acts tough, isn't it?" He grinned at her unconvinced expression. "C'mon, let's take a look around."

They crept through a narrow aisle between the casks. Grimy footprints marked the flagstones, suggesting regular traffic, yet the cellar was eerily quiet. Of the battle raging outside, not a peep could be heard.

Entering a wider aisle, Harry picked the direction with more footprints. The goods stored along the walls were less dusty, showing signs of being moved, and some crates and sacks had been left ajar. He couldn't resist peeking inside one, and to his startlement, discovered grain that looked like it came from Earth. Tribute for demonic services, perhaps.

After a dozen or so paces, soft snores reached his ears. He motioned Gabrielle to be careful and sneaked onward. When he neared a corner, he crouched and peeked around a stained wooden crate.

A pair of fat imps slouched against a cask, their eyes closed and their faces blissed-out, one drooling on his threadbare tunic. Two overturned goblets lay nearby, spilling their contents on the floor. Farther ahead, three wide stairs led to a reinforced door.

He straightened up with a chuckle. Qelnaaz claimed he had been banished for filching the wine. It seemed things hardly changed around here.

He swiftly tied up the imps and stunned one. The other jerked awake as conjured ropes bound his corpulent flesh; his beady eyes flew open, and his hand stretched to a cudgel at his waist yet came short.

"_Reesh xhargo_!" the imp snarled.

"Hello to you too," Harry said, crouching before him. "I only need a few things from you, and you can go back to your beauty sleep. First, do you know of a red-haired woman Andras recently brought here?"

"_Zerx_!" the imp spat.

He mentally apologized to Gabrielle and backhanded the imp. As the demon sputtered and shook his head, Harry twisted his flabby ear. "Red-haired Lilith's daughter. Where?"

"Dunno!" the imp cried. "I only guard, I knows nothing about big boss business!"

Sighing, he let go of the ear and focused on his amulet. Fia felt closer than ever, but her presence was strangely doubled. There was no time to dwell on the mystery. One thing he knew for sure: she was higher up still.

"How do I get to the top of this place?" he asked, staring the imp down. "And don't you dare lie, or I'll come back and _shaax_ your _krregh_."

The imp quivered. "Through door, across eating hall, turn left, is big stairs! But no stairs to big boss rooms."

"Cheers." A crimson jet from his wand laid the imp out cold.

Gabrielle stooped to adjust the guard's head so it wouldn't loll at an awkward angle. "What do those words mean?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest. Fia threatened to do that to me once, so I figured it was something sufficiently horrifying."

She pursed her lips. "It feels bad to say this, but couldn't you _order_ her to be civil?"

"Sure, but where's the fun in that?"

"You _are_ mad," she said with a small smile.

"So you've told me." He glanced at the reinforced door. "Disillusion us. We've been lucky so far, but there's bound to be more guards upstairs."

She tapped him and herself on the head, turning them as good as invisible. He groped for her hand and climbed up to the door with her in tow. Nudging it experimentally, he found it unlocked. Urgent voices and footsteps drifted from the other side.

"We'll have to be quick," he whispered. "Go."

He pushed the door ajar, squeezed through the gap, and pulling Gabrielle along, quickly shut it behind them. They found themselves in a sweltering hall furnished with crude stone tables that were strewn with scraps of meat and bone. A group of armed animal-headed demons trudged out through a doorway on the opposite side. A handful of filthy imps fluttering around the tables used the opportunity to feast on the leftovers. No one had so much as looked in his and Gabrielle's direction.

Holding her hand, he sneaked along the wall and toward the door the demons had left through. They were halfway across when she gasped and dug in her heels.

"Is that a _human_?" she whispered.

Startled, he cast his gaze about. It took a while before he homed in on a ragged figure that hunched before a huge fireplace, machinely turning a spit upon which some enormous animal was roasting whole. The person was missing an ear, and their face was unrecognizably disfigured as if it had been broken and healed over and over.

"Probably not," he lied, and tugged her along.

To his relief, she followed without protest, although he could feel her crane her neck to look back as they neared the doorway. He checked that no demons lurked on the other side and ushered her through.

Now they stood in a colossal entrance hall thrice the size of that at Hogwarts. By the opposite wall, a towering statue of Andras astride a wolf looked down upon them. To the right were massive double doors, left ajar; yells and clangs of metal filtered through the gap. To the left was a staircase so wide it could've accommodated a giant.

Keeping their eyes peeled, they crossed the hall and started up the stairs. A dozen steps up, Gabrielle stumbled and leaned on him so heavily he too almost tumbled down. Steadying her, he looked down. The steps were worn down unevenly, varied in height, and some even slanted sideways.

"And I thought Hogwarts staircases were bad," he muttered. "You alright?"

"Sorry," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'm fine."

They climbed at a more sedate pace. Upon reaching the first-floor landing, which was lit by crimson crystals affixed to an obsidian tree in the manner of leaves, Harry fumbled for his amulet. Before he could focus on the draw, footsteps sounded in the hallway. He pressed his back to the wall and felt Gabrielle do the same.

Two armored dog-headed demons emerged onto the landing and padded to the stairs. Just when Harry began to relax, one turned around and sniffed. The other barked in question. The first dog-man growled and inched closer, its nose quivering and its slit-pupil eyes roving over their invisible forms. Harry extricated his hand from Gabrielle's grip and readied his wand.

The demon came within arm's reach. With his left hand, Harry struck at its unprotected throat, while with his right, he cursed the other. The cartilage under his fingers crunched, and the dog-man's eyes bulged out before it slumped atop his already insensate comrade.

He stared at his handiwork before dragging the corpses into a corner with shaking hands. "Hide them," he hissed.

One demon faded from sight, then the other. "Are they dead?" Gabrielle's disembodied voice asked meekly.

"Yes," he said, harsher than he intended. "Unlike imps, they pose a threat—"

"I know!" She drew a shuddering breath. "I know. They're demons. Evil given form. They probably did horrible things and deserved it."

He sighed. If thinking like that helped Gabrielle fight, he wasn't going to argue. Grasping his amulet, he closed his eyes. His brow creased. There was no mistake: there were two signals. To muddle matters further, the closer signal, one or two floors up, felt weaker. No helping it; they would check it first.

Opening his eyes, he whispered, "Upstairs."

Gabrielle grasped his sleeve, and they set off. Arriving on the second floor without incident, he checked the amulet once more, then climbed another floor.

The third-floor landing opened into a tapestried hallway lined with doors. He flitted from one door to the next, not opening them but pausing and tilting his head as though to listen to a sound at the edge of hearing. He slowed until he was barely advancing. Finally, he passed a tapestry that depicted an owl-headed, black-winged angel cutting down his white-winged counterparts with a sword, and arrived before a door that beckoned to his deeper senses.

He glanced back at the blur that was Gabrielle. "She's close, real close," he whispered, his pulse racing. Hurriedly checking the door for curses, he spelled it open.

The door swung into a large bedroom furnished with serviceable albeit crude furniture. He lingered at the threshold as he searched for any sign of Fia's presence, then, clutching the amulet, stepped inside. She was here. She had to be.

He flicked his wand, and a cabinet by the wall banged open, eliciting a squeak from Gabrielle. Leathers and boots. He wandered the room, occasionally pausing and squeezing his eyes shut. The draw felt the strongest by the hefty bed. He yanked off the covers, then knelt down and peered under it. Nothing.

Scowling, he focused harder. His hand reached, almost of its own accord, for the bedside rug. He pulled it up and froze. There were glyphs drawn in blood, dried by now, and at their center, a lock of crimson hair.

The door slammed, and he bolted to his feet. Fia's half-sister Nuriye stood at the entrance, her yellowish eyes roving the room and her leathery wings splayed wide. A swarm of imps streamed in around her and spread out.

Gabrielle pressed up to him. He could feel her shiver as his wand alternated between the imps and Nuriye before settling on the latter. The beginnings of a hex glowed at the tip of his wand.

Nuriye produced a drawstring pouch, upended it, and flapped her wings, spreading iridescent dust through the room. He instinctively covered his mouth with a sleeve, then stared. The glittering dust clung to his clothes and skin, swiftly rendering him visible.

"You have a lot to learn about sympathetic magic if that was enough to trick you," Nuriye said coolly. "As her kin, I too sensed your call and knew you would come."

Keeping her at wandpoint, he backpedaled toward the wall so the imps couldn't attack his back. "I came to bring her home."

"Yes... take her..." Her face twisted, and she smacked her leather-wrapped fists together. "_En garde_. I cannot go easy on you."

She pounced as he launched his hex and absorbed it with a flare of hellfire. He reached for the hilt of his sword before realizing he wouldn't draw it in time and raising his hands defensively. She slammed into him like a freight train. Stars exploded in his vision as he crashed painfully into the wall and slid to the floor. The imps swooped at him, but a gust of wind from Gabrielle's wand scattered them.

"I'll take care of them!" she cried, encasing half a dozen imps in ice and making them plunge to the floor.

Before he could get back on his feet, Nuriye leapt and aimed a flying kick at him. Rolling away, he sprang up and lifted his wand, but she rained blows at him, not giving him a moment's respite.

"She's upstairs," she grunted, turning her punch into a claw jab. "Tortured—get out—before his grace returns."

"You _want_ me to—" He yelped as his distraction cost him a nick on his arm. The punch he threw in retaliation didn't connect but forced her backward. "Then stop trying to kill me!"

"Can't." She twisted in a roundhouse kick that he ducked under. "Orders. Made grave mistake."

Growling, he tackled her to the floor. "You dumb bitch! Fia _told_ you!"

She averted her eyes. "And she suffers because of me. Please. Save her—" She screamed in pain. Her muscles rippled, and she pushed off the floor with her wings, tossing them both into the air. Then she bent her legs and kicked, sending him staggering backward.

Clutching his stomach with his left hand, he launched a barrage of jinxes. Nuriye weaved through it, dancing ever closer, and punched at his face. Jerking aside, he grabbed her arm and threw her over the shoulder. She slammed into the floor and rolled away from his conjured ropes.

"Strike me down," she said hoarsely, throwing herself at him. A flurry of jabs at his already bruised stomach left him wheezing. His wand slipped from his sweaty fingers. "Hurry!"

Snarling, he bent at the waist and rammed his forehead into her face. The impact left his skull ringing, but Nuriye lurched back clutching a bleeding nose. He grabbed her horn and yanked down, sending her to her knees. Glancing at Gabrielle, he saw her petrify the last imp, scratched and disheveled but whole.

"Restrain her," he barked.

She whirled on them, took in the situation, and nailed Nuriye with a Body-Bind Curse. He let go of the horn and nodded with grim satisfaction.

"Well fought," he said.

Gabrielle blinked as though waking from a dream and gave him a shaky smile. "Oh—you too, Harry."

"This magic won't hold me," Nuriye said mournfully. "Already I can move my fingers. Run me through with that sword before I come for your head."

"Fia's right," he said, collecting his fallen wand. "You _are_ a blockhead."

Hooking an arm around Nuriye's waist, he lifted her with a grunt, and kicking aside the unconscious imps, carried her to the outer wall. Several vigorous taps of his wand sent ripples through the black rock as if it were liquid. He shoved Nuriye in arse-first, sinking her up to her chest, and returned the wall to its solid state.

Her face contorted in effort as her trapped arms flexed. Then, with an explosive breath, the tension drained from her. "I am unable to break free. Well done."

Harry shook his head at her and slumped on the floor to catch his breath. With her forlorn expression and the blood trickling from her nose, Nuriye looked so pathetic it was difficult to muster anger at her.

At an impulse, he pointed his wand at her face. She cringed.

"Episkey," he said with a strange sense of déjà vu.

Her nose straightened with a crunch; she gave a pained cry before blinking her teary eyes in wonder. "Why show me mercy?" she murmured.

"If I killed you, I reckon Fia would be sad." If only because she didn't get to do the deed herself. He still wasn't sure how their relationship worked. "You said she was upstairs?"

"She is." Fear flashed in her eyes. "You must go now! His grace is away, but there's no telling when he will return. His quarters are at the top. The only way in is by air." She eyed Harry's wingless back with dismay.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way," Gabrielle said. She produced a handkerchief and dabbed the blood from Nuriye's upper lip. "Your imps are alive, by the way. I mostly just knocked them out. Will you be okay?"

Nuriye stared at Gabrielle, then bowed her head as much as the weakening Body-Bind Curse allowed. "His grace will punish me for my failure, but I'm prepared. Don't waste your sympathy on me."

Gabrielle looked like she wanted to say more, but Harry draped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her into the hallway. They hastily healed each other's scrapes and tried to Disillusion themselves, but the charm wouldn't take. The iridescent dust on their clothes spitefully resisted any attempts to brush it off or vanish it.

"Screw it," he said, interrupting Gabrielle's increasingly obscure charmswork. "We must've raised enough of a ruckus to alert the whole keep. Let's finish this quick."

"Right," she said, squaring her jaw.

They strode back to the staircase. Angry barks drifted up the stairs as if a pack of hounds was on a hunt. The first dog-men to come into sight did a double-take at him and Gabrielle before deftly nocking arrows into their bows.

Gabrielle flourished her wand, and a gust of wind drowned out the _twangs _of the bows, blowing the arrows back. An instant later, Harry's Blasting Curse hit the stairs, spraying the demons with shrapnel. Gabrielle pelted those who remained standing with Stunning Charms.

"Don't hold back," he snapped.

Deadly magic lanced from their wands. They felled scores of demons and forced the rest back until suddenly no one was coming at them. Gabrielle kept lobbing curses down the bloodied staircase with a deranged look in her eyes until he pushed her wand down. She appeared shaken, but they had no time to spare; taking her hand, he dragged her up another floor.

The stairs ended in an archway into a grand throne room. Harry hesitantly ventured inside. A gilded carpet leading across the room to a resplendent gold-and-silver throne muffled his steps. There were large open balconies on one side, perhaps to accommodate winged guests who would consider climbing the stairs beneath their dignity.

On the other side, atop stone pedestals, stood an array of macabre statues. Some were wrapped in barbed chains, others pressing knives to their throats or holding crystals in their mouths. Whoever had sculpted them was mad but certainly talented. Their faces, frozen in rictuses of suffering, were amazingly lifelike, and he could almost hear the wails from their scabrous lips—

His blood ran cold. These were no statues.

He turned quickly to Gabrielle, but it was too late: her wide eyes were fixed upon the sufferers. With a shocked sob, she ran toward them. He followed with a grimace. There would be no tricking her this time.

She looked up tearfully at an emaciated old man. His toeless feet were fettered, and he held two daggers crammed slantwise into his mouth, blood trickling from the corners of his lips.

"Oh god," Gabrielle said in stunned disbelief. She swished her wand, causing the fetters to fall off the man's ankles. "You're free! Come down and let me heal you!"

The man only gazed glassily into space.

"Please," she cried, "we're humans like you!"

"Gabrielle," Harry said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off, clambered onto the podium, and pulled the daggers from the man's mouth. All of a sudden, he gibbered agitatedly and shoved her off.

She fell with a cry. Harry caught her before she hit the floor; she was never heavy, and even lighter here than on Earth. She gaped in dismay as the man on the podium shoved the daggers into his tongueless mouth and assumed his earlier position, blood now dripping down his chin.

"Why won't you let me help?" she cried, rising to touch his foot.

"Gabby, _enough_." Grasping her shoulders, he steered her away.

She struggled. "But we have to—"

He embraced her tightly. "Their very souls belong to Andras. Do you understand? There's nothing you can do for them. The only way is for their master to free them... or for him to die." Neither outcome seemed likely to him.

She sobbed into his chest and nodded convulsively. Making sure she wasn't looking back, he led her into the balcony, under the turbulent clouds. He wiped a tear off her cheek, uncertain of what to say.

"I—I'm sorry." She rubbed furiously at her eyes. "We have to hurry, I know. It's just, when I saw them..."

"Don't be sorry. Your kindness is what makes you you." He kissed her forehead. "Can you go on?"

She sniffled and bobbed her head. "Yes. Yes, let's get this over with."

He tilted his head back. They were close to the citadel's top, but not quite there yet. A considerable span of obsidian wall rose above; higher still, an even larger balcony than the one they stood on jutted out into the skies. A row of glassless windows was set into the rock to its side.

"We're going to jump," he said. "Lighten us as much as you can."

She glanced up at the balcony, then down at the distant courtyard, which was swarming with demons. "Are you sure?"

"We've done it in the desert, haven't we?" He adjusted the scabbard and made sure his boots were laced up. "Climb on my back and hold on tight. It'll be over before you know it."

"But it's so high this time..." She shook her head. "I trust you."

Her wand touched his shoulder, and he felt as if he could fly. Even when Gabrielle clung to his back like a limpet, rucksack and all, she hardly weighed him down. He rocked on the balls of his feet and inadvertently bounced an inch into the air. She really was brilliant at charms.

"Nothing to it," he murmured, gathering power into his legs. "Hold on."

"Be care—"

He jumped. Her voice rose into a scream, and her arms clamped around his neck as they zoomed past the balcony, catching a glimpse of an opulent chamber behind it, and further up, almost into the clouds. Then gravity took hold, and they drifted down.

Harry windmilled his arms to try and steer them toward the balcony. He managed to land on the parapet, teetered, and toppled forward onto the floor. Gabrielle's arm slipped off his neck, allowing him to suck in a breath.

"Sorry," she squeaked.

"That was some charm," he grunted, rubbing his throat.

Some color returned to her pale cheeks. "I overdo things when I'm stressed. It almost cost me my O in Charms NEWT. The examiner asked me to summon a light rain, and I..." She took a shuddering breath. "Sorry, now's not the time."

"You can tell me—tell _us_ all about it when we're back." Facing the chamber the balcony opened into, he smiled grimly. It felt like Fiamette's presence was scolding him for taking so long. "She's here, this time I'm sure."


	23. Hell, Part Six

They crept into the opulent chamber, wands raised. Scattered around the carpeted floor were armchairs and low tables laden with goblets and platters. No matter where Harry looked, his gaze was met with the glitter of gold. Paintings hung on the walls, invariably depicting scenes of bloodshed with Andras at the center, their gilded frames glinting in the light from ornate lamps.

"So gaudy," Gabrielle said, wrinkling her nose. "Is that Andras in all the paintings? What a narcissist."

Harry snorted. "We're not here to judge the bastard's tastes, just take back what's ours."

The lush carpet silenced their steps as they crossed the chamber and sneaked into a hallway lined with half a dozen doors. A muted whimper reached Harry's ears. He raised a palm in warning and pressed his ear to the nearest door. There was a silence, then a low, prolonged moan.

"Be ready," he whispered, "she might be here."

Gabrielle brushed her hair away from her face and readied her wand. He charmed the door silent, then took a deep breath and shoved it open.

Humid air smelling pleasantly of roses washed over him. He gaped. Steaming water was pouring from a wolf's head-shaped spout on the marble wall and into an enormous pool. About ten naked succubi soaked in the water or lounged at the pool's edge. A couple were locked at the lips, their tails intertwined, while a trio engaged in heated petting.

Horned heads turned toward him and Gabrielle, and exclamations rolled through the bathroom, more surprised than fearful. The couple shrugged and went back to kissing, while the trio's moans grew more passionate. The less occupied demonesses emerged from the water and approached, swaying their hips.

Gabrielle squeaked and covered his eyes. "Stop ogling, Harry!"

"Er, right." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, wrong room. We'll just leave you to it."

The succubi exchanged glances and giggled.

"Don't go," one breathed, "we'll show you a good time."

Another eyed Gabrielle and licked her plump lips. "Both of you."

A redhead hugged a busty brunette around the waist and leered. "You two look _delicious_."

He backtracked but came short of closing the door. "Er, aren't you Andras's concubines?"

The redhead waved dismissively. "He wouldn't care."

"We've been _so_ lonely." The brunette fondled her pendulous breasts and moaned.

Another's hand snaked between her legs. "Won't you please touch us?"

"He'll cut you down when he returns. Why not make your last hours pleasant?" The succubus who offered that suggestion sucked on her long finger, fixing him with a smoldering stare.

Delectable feminine curves and water-beaded skin filled Harry's vision. He gulped and fingered his wand, but drew a blank on what to cast. Smiling sultrily, the succubi sashayed closer.

"Stay away, you... you slutty demons!" Gabrielle slammed the door shut, charmed it locked, and rounded on him. "Focus, Harry!"

"Right." Shaking off his reverie, he fused the door's edges with the surrounding stonework for good measure and turned his back to it. "My bad. They must've used some kind of a magical allure."

Gabrielle sent him a skeptical look. "If you say so."

They searched the other rooms, each more opulent than the previous. In one, a couple of succubi were making love on a silken bed. Gabrielle stunned them so swiftly he was sure they hadn't even noticed the intrusion. The rest of the rooms were empty.

The closer they came to a large double door at the end of the hallway, the warmer his amulet grew, until he was certain Fia was there. At the same time, a vague sense of dread settled over him, and he couldn't help glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

"Leave it," he said brusquely when Gabrielle made to open what was likely the quarters of yet another concubine. "Let's check the big one."

Gabrielle frowned but followed him to the end of the hallway. "I suppose we can always double back if she's not there."

Nodding absently, he waved his wand at the double door. It opened slowly and with an almost foreboding creak. A polished marble hall sprawled before them, separated into airy alcoves along the sides. The hall's windowless end was cast in shadow, in the depths of which loomed something like a pole.

His heart skipped a beat, and before he knew it, he was running ahead. Out of the corner of his vision, he spied winged statues inside one alcove, then shelves loaded with books in the next, then a ridiculously large bed, but he only had eyes for the end of the hall.

When his eyes finally penetrated the darkness, he gaped in horror. An inverted cross towered by the wall, and nailed to it was Fiamette. Barbed wire wrapped her neck to toe, puncturing her bruised skin. Her face was dark crimson from hanging upside down, and her fiery hair soaked in a puddle of blood on the floor.

Gabrielle skidded to a halt beside him and clasped a palm over her mouth.

Fia's bloodshot eyes fluttered open and focused on them with difficulty. "What... took you so long... master?" Her lips twitched. "Little birdie... came too?"

Harry's fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms. He had to force himself not to look away from her gruesome injuries as he stomped closer and began slicing the wire and tearing it off, heedless of the barbs lacerating his skin. His hands shook so badly it was difficult to hold his wand.

"Harry." Gabrielle laid a palm on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "Harry, calm down. You're hurting her."

He froze, only now realizing that Fia had been biting back whimpers each time he tugged off another coil of wire. While he stammered an apology, Gabrielle numbed her wounds, eliciting a groan of relief. Wiping his bloodied palms on his robes, he nodded in gratitude and proceeded to unwrap the wire more carefully.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are _you_ apologizing?" Fia inhaled and exhaled several times before speaking again. "My idiot of a sister... thought she was doing me a favor. Brought me to this arrogant gasbag... to undo your brainwashing." She snorted derisively. "You were right... about my... overconfidence."

"Stop talking," he said tersely as he unwound the last of the barbed wire. "I gathered that much."

"But I—"

"Shush." He considered the spikes driven through her hands and feet and swallowed queasily. Kneeling, he grasped her wrist to steady it. "This might hurt despite the charm. I'll try to be quick."

He tapped the spike with his wand. It shot out in a spray of hot blood and clattered to the floor. Fia's muscles convulsed, and her mouth hung open in a scream. Gabrielle waved her wand over the wound and chanted a healing charm.

Before he could lose his nerve, Harry freed her other hand, then her feet. A short eternity later, he knelt cradling her battered form while Gabrielle did her best to put her to rights, dipping into the rucksack for potions when her charms proved insufficient.

Sobs wracked Fia's body even as her face regained some color. He kissed the top of her head.

"What's wrong?" he crooned. "Does it still hurt?"

"I wouldn't—wouldn't cry about a little pain." She gnawed on her lip. "I... broke. I told him. About your heritage—everything. That's what he wanted to know the most." She glanced at him fearfully and averted her gaze. "That's what I was trying to tell you. I'm sorry, Harry. I failed you."

He stared. "Are you bloody daft? Who cares about that!"

She shook her head. "You don't understand! Now that he knows, Andras will hunt you with all the might of a Great Marquis of Hell. Nowhere will be safe, not even in your world."

He scowled. "Suits me fine. I'll pluck his bloody feathers and boil him in a pot."

Fia cackled, then winced. "We'll make a proper demon out of you yet... but it's early. Decades too early. We must flee before..." Blood drained from her face, and she clutched his arm, staring over his shoulder. "Too late. He's coming."

He turned and peered down the hall. Yellowish light filtered through the alcoves' windows, setting the marble aglimmer. All was quiet save for the whistle of the wind.

He was about to ask Fia what she was playing at when the sense of impending doom that had been nagging him gripped his heart with such intensity that he struggled to draw breath. There was a beat of wings, and a long shadow extended from one of the alcoves. Slow, measured steps sounded, taloned feet against marble, each causing Harry to flinch.

Andras emerged. He stood well above seven feet, his body honed like a statue and unburdened by clothes, pitch-black feathery wings stretching proudly behind his back. An owl's head sat atop his broad shoulders, amber eyes scrutinizing the intruders piercingly.

Harry resisted the urge to bow his head; his primeval instincts screamed that he was unworthy of looking upon this higher being. Then Fia's nails dug into his arm, and with a jolt, clarity returned. Shooting her a grateful look, he employed Occlumency to clear his mind. Meanwhile, Fia hugged the quivering Gabrielle and whispered into her ear.

"Harry Potter," Andras said in a deep, warm voice. "I must commend your alacrity in delivering yourself into my hands. When my erstwhile servant reported you entering my castle, I was skeptical—yet here you are."

_Qelnaaz_. Harry tamped down his anger at the betrayal; demons were demons. "You have me at a disadvantage," he drawled, rising to his feet.

Fury flashed in the marquis's eyes, and he stalked closer. "You claim you broke into my citadel without knowing who I am? I, Andras, the commander of thirty legions?"

"Never heard of you." Harry gloated inwardly when Andras's feathers ruffled. "I only came to this dump to pick up my servant. I take it you're responsible for the state she's in?" Despite his efforts, his voice cracked with emotion.

"A young demoness beseeched me to restore her sister's sanity, and I did my best to fulfill her wish." Andras's gaze flicked to Harry's side. "One of our kind has to be insane to willingly serve you, after all. A little more time with her, and I would have achieved success."

Fia stepped forth on trembling legs. "Begging your mercy, your grace—this human can be used, he can help advance the Great Plan—"

"Do not speak to me of the Great Plan!" Andras thundered. "It calls for nothing less than the eradication of his ilk! There can be no compromise!" His voice lost its stentorian quality, suddenly sounding regretful. "You're more corrupted than I feared, young one. I can do no more but offer you this final mercy. _Begone_."

A howl resonated through the hall as flames blacker than the blackest night gathered around Andras's wings, extending them to colossal proportions. When their blazing tips brushed the ceiling, devouring the rock, he flapped, sending a torrent of hellfire at them.

"Stay behind!" Harry leapt forward and threw out his arms.

The flames slammed into him like a storm wave, pushing him back. Growling, he dug in his heels. Blackness consumed his vision. His robes flaked off in ashes, his wand crumbled in his hand, and the sword clanged off his back. The heat grew oppressive.

Narrowing his eyes, he defiantly took a step forward, then another. A power to answer the raging hellfire surged through his veins. The flames recoiled, rushed at him, recoiled once more. Snarling, he thrust his hand into the heart of the blaze and closed it.

With a desperate screech, the hellfire died. Andras stood frozen, his eyes wide. Harry whirled around and breathed easier: Fia and Gabrielle huddled atop a tiny island of marble among the devastation. The hellfire had dug deep grooves into the underlying rock, and instead of the back wall, a vast cave had been gouged into the mountain, a circle of yellow clouds glowing at its end.

He stared in anguish at the ashes in his palm—the trusty holly-and-phoenix-feather wand had served him for two decades—then did a double-take at his nudity. Keeping an eye on Andras, he backpedaled toward Gabrielle and her rucksack.

"Do you comprehend now, foolish Lilith's daughter?" Andras boomed. "His heritage nullifies even the flames summoned by one of my caliber. If allowed to proliferate, it has the potential to annihilate our kind." He spread his muscular arms. "Stop cowering beside your women and face me, Harry Potter. I am loath to sully Angel Slayer with human blood, but I'll gladly make an exception for you."

Rummaging inside the rucksack for his spare trousers, Harry held up a finger. "Be with you in a minute."

Andras's beak clicked. "You dare mock me?"

"Not at all." Eyeing the marquis warily, he pulled on the trousers. "It would be unseemly to fight to the death naked, no?"

"What a pathetic concept." Andras actually sounded amused. "Yet it befits an inferior creature to be ashamed of its form."

Harry ignored the taunt and swept his gaze over the girls. "Stay safe. Don't draw his attention." He nudged down Gabrielle's trembling wand. "_Please_."

Fia clasped his arm, mouthed a harsh incantation, and pressed her hot lips to his. Strength surged through him, washing away fatigue and fear. She swayed and slumped to her knees; Gabrielle sidled up to support her.

"Go lop off his head," Fia said weakly.

"I thought I didn't stand a chance?" He clenched a fist. It was as if the tiring climb up the keep had never happened.

She flashed her fangs. "You managed to surprise me before."

He grinned. "You should learn not to doubt me already."

Quivering with barely restrained energy, he bounded to the Sword of Gryffindor and picked it up. It hummed as though eager for battle, sitting just right in his hand. He swung it in a few practice loops.

"Ah, you fence?" Andras said. "I was under the impression the practice went out of fashion in the human world, but I am glad to be proven wrong." He lowered a taloned hand to his hip and drew a sword from thin air. It was almost as tall as the average man and splotched as though with rust. "Behold the doom of two hundred seventeen angels, and now yours."

"Angel blood," Fia hissed from behind. "Deadly to humans and all but the strongest demons."

Harry narrowed his eyes as Andras swung his sword experimentally. The slightest nick could kill him. He hefted the Sword of Gryffindor. Was it too much to hope that the basilisk venom would do the same to the marquis?

Andras's taloned feet struck sparks from the rock as he dashed at him. Without thinking, Harry raised his sword and caught the initial strike, the impact jarring his arm. Andras's blade slid off his with a screech, swung around, and hurtled at his neck. Harry's body knew what to do better than his mind and deflected the blow.

Again and again their swords clashed resoundingly. Andras clicked his beak. After nimbly parrying Harry's counter-attack, he leapt out of range.

"Your technique is satisfactory," he remarked, "but your attacks are too straightforward. A good swordsman adapts to the situation instead of blindly following the forms."

Harry couldn't retort, both because Andras lunged at him, and because the demon was right. All he could do was infuse his limbs with power and trust Gryffindor's ancient magic to guide his hand.

Andras's sword whistled down at him. Harry braced his left hand on the flat of his blade and blocked, his knees buckling under the force. Andras retreated and thrust at his stomach. Lurching back, Harry knocked the tip aside before it could pierce him.

The rusty blade blurred in lightning-fast stabs. Harry backtracked, parrying by instinct alone. Angel Slayer drew first blood, leaving a prickling slash across his chest. He did not have the luxury to take stock of the wound. Andras struck heavily and forced him another step back.

Instead of the marble floor, his foot encountered air. He lost his balance and stumbled into the groove left by the hellfire. Andras pointed his sword forward and rushed in. The girls screamed. Desperate, Harry spun on his heel and Apparated.

Glacial cold engulfed him, and his breath left his lungs in a wispy cloud. A winged figure of turbulent black flames froze before him, pointing a sword shining with repugnant light at his neck. He grunted with effort as he circled the figure; it was like wading through molasses. By the time he got behind Andras, he was dizzy with lack of air, and even lifting his sword proved a gargantuan task.

He returned to the real world as he swung. Andras's head swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees, and he brought his sword around, blocking at the last instant. Harry cried in dismay and staggered back.

"Intriguing." The marquis's eyes remained fixed on Harry while his body turned to face the same direction. "I was not aware that your power of teleportation could be used in Gehenna. Your kind seldom visit in the flesh."

Harry glared mutely and tried to catch his breath. If only Apparition was as easy here as back home! Seeing Andras's muscles bulge in preparation to pounce, he stepped into the frozen void.

He was prepared for the cold and kept the air in his lungs. Wading toward Andras, he swung at his sword arm with a snarl. Only when Gryffindor's sword met the demon's flesh did he Apparate back.

The blade accelerated, slicing off Andras's arm above the elbow and glancing off his ribs. A bark of laughter escaped Harry's lips.

Andras caught the severed limb as it fell and swung it like a grotesque weapon. Harry fell back, yet the sword still clutched in the limb's hand slashed his shoulder.

Andras's manic laughter echoed across the hall as he lashed out again, his reach now doubled and his attacks unpredictable. After driving Harry back, he stuck the severed arm to his stump, and his flesh knitted together.

Harry inhaled deeply and Apparated. He plodded at Andras, sword extended, until its tip pierced the marquis's barrel chest. It felt like trying to stab through rock, but he pushed until black spots crept at the edges of his vision. Then he returned, twisted the sword, and ripped it out.

Blood spurted from the wound, and Andras gave a choking gurgle. He swayed on his feet, then beat his wings and took to the air. A slightly different burble came from his beak; to his shock, Harry recognized laughter. The marquis raised his sword and swooped down.

Harry jumped into the void and slashed at Andras's leg as he came back. Time resumed its progress; Andras collapsed to a knee, then beat his wings and swooped at Harry again. His laughter never ceased, gaining in volume as the wound on his chest healed.

Harry Apparated, swung, and Apparated again until his fingers were numb with the cold and so shaky he could barely hold the sword. He had carved Andras into ribbons thrice over, yet the marquis put himself back together each time. Blood painted his skin crimson, and his amber eyes burned, making him look every bit the demon he was.

Andras attacked. Harry turned on his heel and stumbled as his legs almost gave out, his lungs pumping like bellows. Lifting his sword, he blocked desperately. Andras sidestepped his feeble retaliatory swing and laughed.

More blows rained down, nearly jarring the sword from his grip. Harry gritted his teeth and defended with all he had. A searing pain had been spreading from the wounds on his chest and shoulder, impeding his movements.

Andras caught the tip of Gryffindor's sword with his and twisted, wrenching the hilt from Harry's fingers. A taloned foot kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Panting, Harry propped himself on an elbow and froze as Angel Slayer touched his neck.

"Your accursed line ends here, last of the Peverells." Andras raised his sword over his head. "Take solace in knowing that I shall immortalize our battle in my greatest painting."

As Angel Slayer began to descend, a ribbon of purple energy carved into Andras's back with a spray of blood. Screaming furiously, the marquis turned around and deflected the next curse with the flat of his blade.

"How dare you interrupt, insignificant creature!" He marched toward Gabrielle, jets of light ricocheting off his whirling sword.

"No," Harry croaked. Scrabbling for his fallen sword, he charged at the marquis.

Andras's head swiveled around, and his fist slugged Harry on the head, laying him out on the floor. He keened, unable to marshal the strength to even stand, his vision swimming.

The marquis advanced inexorably toward Gabrielle, who stood defiant, flinging curse after curse. Each was deflected; Andras was toying with her. When the distance between them shrank to a dozen paces, he lunged and ran her through.

Harry's scream froze in his throat. The scene burned itself into his retinas: Andras's wings folded back, his sword extended in a thrust, Gabrielle rigid like a statue, her lifeblood trickling down the blade in her chest and pouring to the floor. Then Andras yanked the sword back, and she collapsed into Fia's arms.

"She was unworthy of my blade." The marquis flicked the blood off his sword. "The nerve of the girl, to turn that paltry weapon against me."

Fury surged within Harry, and with it strength. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he leapt at Andras with a snarl. No longer he heeded the subtle guidance of Gryffindor's magic but hacked away as if the elegant weapon were an axe.

The marquis parried with contemptuous ease. Harry's wrath was expended like that of a stormy sea against an unyielding rock, and his strength waned as abruptly as it had come. Andras struck aside his sword and slapped him with a wing.

He crashed on his back. Andras's foot crushed his chest, making him wheeze. Angel Slayer stabbed down. Agony lanced through his shoulder, and he gave a strangled yell.

An owl face loomed above, amber eyes glowing. "Was the death of your servant distressing?" The sword twisted, sending a fresh wave of pain down his shoulder, but Harry no longer had the air to scream. "Rest easy: I shall keep the other one alive. Rip off her eyelids and make her watch as rats gnaw on your corpse until there's nothing left."

Harry gnashed his teeth and tossed around, heedless of the blade maiming his shoulder. Andras laughed and yanked out the sword. Adding another hand on the hilt, he aimed at Harry's heart.

Pure white flared at the edge of Harry's vision. Andras's head swiveled around, then the rest of him. A ball of white flames grazed his wing even as he jumped aside with an undignified squawk. Gulping down air, Harry stabbed the Sword of Gryffindor into the flames' path. They only skimmed the tip, but that was enough to ignite the blade with unwavering white radiance.

Andras whipped out his wing, and without hesitation, lopped off its burning tip. The white blaze consumed the feathers even as they fell to the floor. His head swiveled to Gabrielle, who teetered and sagged to her knees.

"I take back my words," Andras thundered. "Your blood is indeed worthy of staining Angel Slayer. Taste despair, celestial! You had one chance to strike me down and you wasted it."

Drawing on the last vestiges of his strength, Harry stood and raised his sword. "She didn't."

As Andras whirled around, Harry swung the radiant blade at his feathery neck. It was a perfect cut. The severed head fell to the floor and rolled to Harry's feet.

"Impossible," said the Great Marquis of Hell, and was silent.

Harry slumped to his knees at the same time as Andras's body toppled limply. He eyed the head suspiciously, but its amber eyes were glassy and unmoving. Leaning on the sword like a crutch, he dragged himself toward the girls.

Fia pressed a blood-soaked handkerchief to Gabrielle's chest. The younger woman's face was ashen and her breathing shallow, yet she still greeted Harry with a wan smile. When she tried to speak, blood bubbled on her lips. He shushed her, and plucking the wand from her cool fingers, frantically cast healing charms over her chest.

"Andras missed her heart," Fia said quietly. "Perhaps he expected the poison to finish her off, but she's part-celestial." Her fingers touched his left arm, making him wince. "Unlike you."

He glanced down and hissed at his gaping shoulder wound and the blackened flesh across his chest. "Later," he said, wrenching his gaze away.

"If we don't do something—"

"_Later_." He dug in the rucksack for a blood-replenishing potion, ripped off the cork with his teeth, and brought the vial to Gabrielle's bluish lips. "Drink this."

She swallowed, coughed wetly, then swallowed again. Some color returned to her cheeks, but her breathing remained rattly and labored.

"This is beyond me," he said tensely. "Can you open a portal home?"

"Not in some time," Fia said. "I gave you every last drop of my strength. And even if I hadn't, without the amulet to home in on..."

"Damn it!" He smacked the floor and grimaced in pain.

Gabrielle slid her hand toward his. "I'll... be fine," she whispered. "Harry... you're bleeding..."

He squeezed her hand. "Don't speak." Aiming her wand awkwardly at his left shoulder, he muttered a healing charm. It stanched the bleeding but did not restore his necrotizing flesh. "If the poison didn't kill me by now, I must have some resistance," he said, trying to reassure her as much as himself. The wound was ghastly, and he could no longer move his left arm.

Fia scrunched up her face in determination, rose laboriously, and limped off. A wet squelching noise reached his ears. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her stooped over Andras's corpse, her claws stabbing into his chest.

His lip curled. "I'm half-tempted to piss on the bastard myself, but how is desecrating his corpse going to help?"

"Don't be such a mortal," she scoffed.

She dug around the ribcage until she exclaimed in triumph and surfaced with her prize: a large dark heart that twitched in her bloody palm. Sticking out her tongue, she licked it. A shudder ran through her, and her leathery wings grew out.

"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, turning away. "Will you stop that?"

"And let the spoils of your victory rot away? Are you daft?" She sprang up and snapped her fingers. Red flames gathered at her ankles and swept upward, briefly hiding her from sight. When they faded, her skin was clean and whole, and her hair lustrous. She strutted up and offered the bloody heart to him. "Here. Make his strength yours."

"_What_?" He shrank away. "Look, I won't tell you not to follow your barbaric customs, but I want no part of them! You're welcome to, uh, take all the strength from it you want."

"That's not how it works! My contribution was regretfully meager, so if you don't take it, it will go to waste." She shoved the heart under his nose and huffed exasperatedly when he recoiled. "It's a ritual, you don't have to eat the entire thing! _Argh_, that's it, I've had enough of your human sensibilities." Tossing the heart over her shoulder, she bared her fangs and leaned in.

"_Don't_," Gabrielle rasped, and burst into coughs.

He turned to her in concern, and that's when Fia pounced. Her claws squeezed his mouth open, and she shoved her bloodied finger inside. He jerked back and sputtered at the coppery tang on his tongue.

Fia watched with an expectant gleam in her eye. He was about to give her a piece of his mind when heat exploded in his stomach and his heart clobbered his ribcage. A guttural snarl ripped from his throat, and he dropped to his fours. Gabrielle stretched a hand toward him feebly.

"Stay back," he growled in a voice an octave lower than his usual.

With every thump of his heart, rage poisoned his mind. Fearing it would find an outlet in the girls, he crawled away like a beast until he hit the wall. He snarled and punched it over and over, the pain only stoking his fury. Chips of obsidian crumbled to the floor. His bloodied knuckles healed before his eyes, his nails turning to vicious claws.

The shock of seeing his hand thus transformed was like being doused in icy water. Closing his eyes, he forcibly slowed his breath. _In, hold, out_. _In, hooold, out_.

When his heart no longer thumped quite as frenziedly, he opened his eyes and examined his black claws. His jaw sagged. The ring finger he had lost in the Curse-Breaking expedition years ago had regrown.

Fia pranced up to him with a devilish smile on her lips. A growl rose in his chest, and he sprang to his feet. She halted in her tracks, suddenly fearful.

"I'll take any punishment you believe I deserve," she said, enunciating every word, "but make sure it's your judgment and not an echo of his."

Harry lowered the claw he didn't remember raising at her. Slow breaths, he reminded himself. _In, hold, out_.

"That's right." She closed the distance and grasped his hand. "It's alright. I know you can handle it." Seeing his gaze linger on his claws, she added, "It's your body. Just will it."

He frowned in concentration. His claws shrank a fraction, then grew again. After that initial breakthrough, the rest came easy; he retracted the claws entirely and returned his hands to their previous state.

Fia caressed his cheek. "How do you feel?" she asked hungrily.

Glaring at her, he patted himself down. His wounds had vanished without a trace; even his mangled shoulder was in perfect condition. He slipped a hand into the back of his trousers and let out a relieved breath. No tail. He wiped his forehead absently, froze, then probed it frantically with his fingers. There were two small, hard lumps above his temples, hidden under his unkempt hair.

"Horny," he said. "I feel horny."

Fia groaned. "Have I mentioned that I hate you lately?"

He chuckled, then erupted into full-blown laughter. Everything seemed brighter all of a sudden, figuratively and literally. The air tasted almost sweet, and the furnace-like heat, a constant discomfort of the last few days, now felt like pleasant warmth.

"What have you done?" Gabrielle strained to rise into a seated position, tears running down her cheeks. "The very thing I tried to prevent... I'm so sorry, Harry... I couldn't..."

The laughter died in his throat. He rushed to her side, but she cringed away, peering at him with pity and horror. He couldn't bear to hold her teary gaze and ducked his head.

"Oh, cease the histrionics," Fia said, crouching beside. She licked her bloody finger, gripped the back of Gabrielle's neck, and pulled her into a deep kiss.

Gabrielle's pale hands scrabbled weakly against Fia's chest, then fell to her sides. Fia drew back and grinned. Gabrielle's mouth opened and closed spasmodically before she clutched her head with a moan, her nails lengthening into talons.

Harry shoved Fia aside and hugged Gabrielle around the shoulders, muttering reassurances. His only response was a yell of pain. She doubled over and curled into a quaking ball. The back of her robes bulged before the fabric tore and two majestic wings erupted. The feathers started out a brilliant white but stained before their eyes to a rich grey.

"It awoke her latent heritage," Fia said in wonder. "And then corrupted her." She sprang up and threw her arms skyward. "Haha! I made an angel fall! Who's not following the Great Plan now, owl-head!"

The grey wings beat twice, then draped over Gabrielle like a feathery mantle. She drew a shuddering breath and rose to her feet, the ruined robes slipping off her shoulders. Of the wound on her chest, only the caked blood remained. Her lips parted in shock as she glanced over her shoulder, and she tentatively raised one wing for a closer inspection.

"You turned me into a monster," she whispered.

"A meaningless label," Fia scoffed. "You defeated an enemy and took his power. What you do with it is up to you."

Gabrielle glowered at her. "You shouldn't have done that."

Fia crossed her arms. "You were about to keel over. I did you a favor."

Gabrielle stomped closer. "No one asked you to!"

"You wouldn't, not with those mortal preconceptions of yours, so I used my judgment." Fia grinned cheekily. "Don't cluck at your superior."

Gabrielle ground her teeth, color creeping up her cheeks. Fia laughed in her face, but it cut off abruptly when Gabrielle cocked her arm and punched her. Fia's head snapped back, and she fell onto her wings, skidding along the floor.

Gabrielle stalked toward her. Snapping out of his shock, Harry caught her and held her back. She rounded on him with a sneer.

"Gabby—"

"Don't you Gabby me!" she yelled, twisting out of his grip. "That bitch—she—_she_—"

"I know," he said. "Trust me, I know, but you mustn't give in to the anger. You're not yourself right now."

She glared at him, her chest heaving, then exhaled and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, anger no longer twisted her features.

"Thank you, Harry," she said sweetly. "I'm back to normal now."

He smiled in relief. "Then—"

"This was the last straw. I've had enough of her toying with me and pushing me around." Her gaze flicked to Fia, who was picking herself off the floor, and her lips quirked up. "I'm not defined by my power, but what I do with it, is that right? Well, right now, I fancy teaching you a lesson!"

He raised his palms. "Er, I don't think that's what she had in mind when she said that."

"Let her through," Fia said, wiping the blood off her lip. "Come then, birdie. Let's find out who's stronger once and for all."

"With pleasure." In a whirl of wings, Gabrielle tackled her.

"Stop! Just calm down for one damn second!" Harry stared in dismay as they tussled on the floor, one emerging atop only to get brought down, using every limb at their disposal to scratch, punch, and kick. Then Fia got a solid grip on Gabrielle's hair, flapped her wings, and dragged her screaming across the hall. He gave chase. "We're in enemy territory, for fuck's sake!"


	24. Hell, Part Seven

Harry's bare feet slapped the floor as he chased the frenzied girls. Neither seemed inclined to let up on the other, and he feared that if he ordered Fiamette to stop fighting, Gabrielle might seriously hurt her. His only option was to jump in and pull them apart.

A dark winged figure outside an alcove's window made him skid to a halt. He glanced back to where he had carelessly left the Sword of Gryffindor, then raised his fists. Despite nearly losing his life just a while ago, the prospect of another fight almost thrilled him.

In a flutter of leathery wings, Nuriye alighted through the window. The moment she saw his wary stance, she folded her wings and dropped to her knees.

"Congratulations on your great victory," she said in her husky voice. "If I may be so bold as to ask... what became of my sister?"

Harry lowered his fists. "She's alright." There was a noise of breaking wood and a shriek. He grimaced. "I hope."

A smile lit up Nuriye's face. She shuffled closer and prostrated herself, her wings receding partially. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I pledge to you my undying loyalty. Please use me as you see fit, my lord."

"Wait, no!" His gaze swept over Nuriye's chocolate skin in search of any strange tattoos before he exhaled in relief. For a pact to form, both sides had to accept.

"Will you not allow me to atone for my transgressions?" Her head rose a fraction, and her lips trembled. "I... understand. An incompetent servant isn't of much use. Say the word, and I'll end myself." She aimed her claws at her throat.

"Don't!" he cried, extending a hand. "Look, can we talk about this later? Let cooler heads prevail and all that. Right now, I've got a bit of a situation on my hands." He jerked his chin at the hall behind.

As if on cue, there was a loud crash.

"How do you like that, bitch!" Gabrielle yelled. "You reap what you sow!"

Fia gasped dramatically. "You broke my nail! _Oh_, you're going to get it now!"

He pulled a face. "So, yeah. Any ideas? Er, feel free to stand, by the way."

Nuriye pushed up to her knees and blinked. "A spat between concubines isn't something my lord should concern himself with. One will win, the other will lose, and order will be established."

"You sound like Fia," he said, groaning. "I'm worried they're not themselves right now. After we defeated Andras..." His lip curled in disgust.

Nuriye nodded sagely. "Devouring too much power has been known to drive demons wild. Do not worry, this will pass."

He perked up. "How do we return them to normal?"

"Simply let them work off the energy. A spar will do, or..." Her gaze darted to his crotch, and her tail swished side to side. "It is up to them."

"I think this already went far beyond a spar—"

"_Die_!" Gabrielle screeched. Something exploded, and he could've sworn he felt the floor vibrate through his feet.

"Bloody hell!" He turned around in time to see Fia hurtle past and crash into an alcove on the opposite side of the hall. A grey-feathered blur that was Gabrielle lunged after her. "That's it, I'm putting an end to this."

Nuriye stood up hesitantly and followed him to the alcove. It appeared to have held an easel and an array of brushes and paints, most of the supplies now destroyed. Amid the scraps of canvas and splotches of bright colors on the floor grappled Fiamette and Gabrielle, the former naked and the latter as good as.

Fia lay on her back, her breasts heaving, hair disheveled, fresh scratches fading on her face. A glowering Gabrielle pinned her wrists to the floor. Her taloned hand rose and descended upon Fia's cheek in a resounding slap. Harry opened his mouth but was interrupted.

"Why are you always like this?" Gabrielle cried. "Like it's all a joke to you!"

Fia raked her freed hand at Gabrielle and sliced off her tattered bra. "Why are you always so melodramatic? Life's a lot simpler than you make it out to be!" With a grunt, she flipped them over and leaned into her face. "I—_you_ made yourself stronger. Yes, you! Harry could've never beaten Andras alone. You fought and you took your enemy's power. Everything is as it should be."

Gabrielle flexed her feathery wings and rolled atop Fia. A tear fell from her eye, and her grip lost strength. "And now I'm—I'm a—"

"Oh, enough with the self-pity already!" Fia snaked her arms around her neck and tugged her into a kiss. At first, Gabrielle seemed too shocked to resist, but then she pulled away with a gasp. Fia looked her in the eye. "All that's changed is that you grew a pair of proper wings and can fight me as an equal. So enough whinging, you dumb little bir—_Gabrielle_."

Gabrielle gaped at her in astonishment, and Fia used the opportunity to flip them over again. Looming above her, she licked her lips. "The wings are bloody gorgeous, by the way. Not as elegant as mine, of course, but the grey contrasts nicely with your skin." She sank her fingers into her feathers.

"What are you—don't—_oh_." Gabrielle's back arched off the ground, her wings quivering under Fia's expert touch.

Fia grinned impishly and nuzzled her neck. "You smell good," she murmured. "Makes me want to eat you up." Her hands sought out Gabrielle's perky breasts, while her limber tail curved to slip into her torn panties.

Gabrielle trembled and clutched Fia's shoulders. "Stop—this is w-wrong—"

"Little strumpet, you're sopping wet," Fia breathed, her tail gliding rhythmically. "Did wrestling me get you all hot and bothered?" She smirked when Gabrielle's hips arched reflexively.

Gabrielle panted for air before growling and groping at the junction of Fia's thighs. "You're one to talk. S-slut."

Fia flinched. "Mind your talons, you daft chick!"

"Sorry," Gabrielle squeaked. Her hand stilled before moving again. "Um... like this?"

"Much better," Fia purred. "_Mm_, you're so tight. I can see why Harry loves your little cunt."

Harry goggled as the two, not having noticed his presence at all, began working off their frustrations in a different manner. His trousers suddenly felt too tight. He had been keeping his own carnal impulses in check—this hardly seemed the place or the time—yet the scene tested his precarious restraint.

A sigh came from behind. He had almost forgotten Nuriye was there. She watched her half-sister with a wistful expression, but sensing his gaze, quickly faced him and bowed. Her eyes lingered on his tented crotch.

"Please follow me, my lord," she said, gesturing at the main hall.

He glanced at the girls. Wrapped in a passionate embrace, they were certainly no longer in danger of killing each other. A little reluctantly, he followed Nuriye out of the alcove.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"As I recall, there is a fine bed in these quarters," she said, glancing back. "I would rather my lord was comfortable while I service him."

He groaned and halted. Fiamette's kin sure had one-track minds. "You don't have to, uh, service me. And stop acting so deferential." He winced when she immediately bowed as if rebuked. "That wasn't an order! I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

A glint entered her yellow eyes. "Then there is no issue, for I _do_ wish to serve you. Nothing would make me happier than to be of use to my great benefactor." Thus emboldened, she took his hand and pulled him onward.

"That's not—quite what I meant." His voice hitched as her tail snaked to caress him over the taut fabric of his trousers. Lust flooded his body, and suddenly, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the sway of Nuriye's curvy hips.

She led him across the hall and into an alcove with an extravagant canopy bed. He did not resist as she seated him at its edge, and murmuring apologies for her audacity, knelt before him and undid his zipper. Her vertical pupils dilated as she beheld his erect length.

"Your lovers aren't the only ones who need to deal with their excess energy. I wouldn't presume to take my sister's place, but since she is preoccupied, allow me to comfort you."

"Right," he said, breathing heavily in anticipation.

"Please rest assured," she said, pumping him lightly, "I might not have much experience with men, but I know what to do."

Her long wet tongue slithered out and languidly caressed his cock from the balls to the tip. The corners of her eyes crinkled when he hissed. She licked up and down, her upturned eyes observing his reactions, until her plump lips finally wrapped around his length.

His fingers grasped at the air as she rested her hands on his thighs and began bobbing her head. The pleasure of being enveloped in her hot mouth shattered the last of his restraint. Taking hold of her warm horns, he pulled her lower.

Nuriye hummed as she smoothly took him to the root, her throat vibrating around his cock. He moaned. Her tail wagged, and she bobbed faster.

"_Fuck_," he gasped.

Her nose brushed his pubes with each stroke. He now let her dictate the pace and merely held on for the ride. She sucked him as if determined to suck out his soul. It wasn't long before his legs shook with pleasure, and clenching her horns, he grunted his release.

Her throat constricted as she swallowed every spurt of his seed. He held her close until he was spent, and she offered no resistance, peering up with half-lidded eyes. When he let go of her horns, she twirled her tongue around his cock several times as if not wanting to part with it before drawing back.

"Thank you for the privilege," she said, a little hoarsely.

"Come again?" he asked breathlessly.

She inclined her head. "Thank you for allowing this lowly servant to taste your seed, my lord."

He choked out a laugh. "I thought I told you to stop acting like that. If anything, I should be the one thanking you."

Her brow furrowed. "Why is that? You could've had any of your concubines satisfy you, yet you allowed me the honor. That fills me with joy."

Seeing that he wasn't getting through to her, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Doesn't this bother you at all? You were so distraught about your sister serving a human, yet look at you now."

She stared. "But you're no human. One of their pathetic kind could never defeat a Great Marquis! I cringe at how foolish I was for not realizing you were merely hiding your power when I first met you."

He scowled and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she prostrated herself on the floor.

"Forgive my insolence. If you wish to be called human, then I shall do so." She appeared to be searching for the right words. "You, my lord, are—are the most human of them all."

He slapped his forehead. "Merlin's beard. Just get up! And quit groveling; if you offend me enough to warrant that, I'll bloody tell you."

She rose uncertainly to her feet. While her posture was no longer quite as diffident, she was evidently still confused.

As she stood before him in awkward silence, a prolonged moan drifted in from the distance. His cock stirred with a life of its own. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. No one had even touched him, and he was back at full mast. It better settle down soon; he didn't fancy walking around with a constant stiffy.

In contrast to him, Nuriye appeared delighted at his virility. She untied her tight bodice and shrugged it off. Her heavy breasts spilled out, nipples dark and taut.

"Please do me the honor—that is, allow me to tend to your needs." She tilted her head. "Did I word it better this time?"

"Word it however you like," he said absently, his gaze glued to her tits. What clarity had returned after his climax was again getting drowned out by lust. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

"Is my body not to your liking?" Nuriye asked despondently.

"It's not that," he assured, looking up. "Er... I have Fia and Gabby, so..."

"And you still will," she said in a puzzled tone. "I don't intend to steal them away." Grasping his hand, she guided it to her soft, warm breast.

He swallowed. "Look, things work differently in the human world."

Comprehension dawned in her eyes. "You believe my sister would take offense? She as much as offered to share." She lowered his hand to her leather thong and ground against it with a low moan. "Had I any sense, I would've taken the offer and spared her the suffering."

Harry's breath hitched at her heat. The thong was so narrow and clingy he could feel the outline of her cunt.

Biting her lip, Nuri peeled off the thong and wiggled it down her hips. A neat line of purple hair pointed to her plump cunt. She turned around and backed into him. Her tail poked at his crotch before winding once around his shaft. Her wings fluttered, slapping his face.

"Forgive my clumsiness!" The wings retracted into her shoulder blades. "I'm a little overwhelmed, but I'll serve you to the best of my ability."

"It's fine." Swallowing, he palmed her ass cheek to direct her onto his cock. He was so hard it was almost painful.

A deliberate cough made him swivel his head. Fia and Gabrielle stood naked at the alcove's entrance, the former's arm wrapped around the latter's waist. He had a feeling they had been watching for some time. Nuriye gasped and unwound her tail from him as if caught at mischief.

"What do we have here?" Fia drawled. "Let you out of sight for a minute, master, and you find a new hole to stick your dick in." Her languid grin belied her words.

"But you were, uh, preoccupied," he mumbled, inadvertently repeating Nuriye's words.

"And you couldn't go for a minute without... um, a hole?" Gabrielle asked. Her flushed cheeks darkened further when his gaze swept over her, her thighs gleaming with the evidence of her and Fia's lovemaking.

"Told you, men are all the same." Fia strutted inside, fixing the fidgeting Nuriye with a glare. "As for _you_—"

Nuriye pounced on her, embraced her fiercely, and sobbed into her chest. "Don't hate me, sister! I'm sorry I was such a fool!"

Fia's arms flailed in the air before she hugged her back. "Yes. Yes, you really were." Her hand slowly rose to pat her head.

Nuriye drew back and searched her face. "Are you well now? I heard your screams, but Andras permitted no one into his chambers."

She laughed darkly. "I'm more than well. The marquis lies dead, and we've taken his power for ourselves. Truly, I should be _thanking_ you."

Nuriye's tail, which had been drooping limply, perked up. "You don't resent me?" Her eyes swiveled briefly toward Harry. "Will you permit me to stay by your side?"

"Of course I will." Just as Nuriye's face lit up, Fia smiled predatorily and grasped her chin. "How else would you pay your dues? I'll take my time toying with you until you beg for mercy." She dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. "And I won't stop even then."

Nuriye swallowed and rubbed her thighs together. "Like... like the old days?"

"Even better," Fia purred, reaching down to squeeze her ass. Then she slapped it and pushed her off. "But that comes later. What have I taught you about leaving a job unfinished?" She indicated Harry with her gaze.

He perked up. While he didn't begrudge the sisters their reunion, he had been feeling rather frustrated after being interrupted at such an inopportune moment.

Licking her lips, Nuriye started toward him. "My apologies. I shall attend to—" She squealed as Fia caught her tail and held her back.

"After being adamantly against it before, you sure are eager to fuck my master," Fia said gleefully. "But I won't let you—that wouldn't be much of a punishment. No, you're going to sit in the corner, spread your legs like a whore, and finger your drooling cunt while you watch us." She tugged on Nuriye's tail. "But don't you _dare_ cum, or the screams you heard from me yesterday won't come close to yours."

"Yes, sister," Nuriye said meekly.

Despite the harsh treatment, she didn't look unhappy as she clambered onto the bed and followed the orders to the letter. Her fingers slid in and out of her cunt with wet, carnal noises. Gabrielle stared before averting her gaze with a blush.

"This brings me back to our days of cavorting around father's castle," Fia said with smug satisfaction. Her gaze fell on Harry, and she covered her mouth in mock sympathy. "We'll take care of that raging problem of yours momentarily, master. Sorry for not being there for you—we had to iron out some differences. But we came to a mutual understanding in the end, didn't we?" She winked saucily at Gabrielle.

Gabrielle ducked her head and scuffed the floor with her toe. "Well..."

Fia rolled her eyes and pulled her toward the bed. "What are you suddenly bashful for? Let's see how much spunk we can squeeze from Harry together."

Gabrielle made two steps and dug in her heels. "No! I'm still upset with him. You're one thing, but _she_"—she glanced uncomfortably at Nuriye—"is a stranger. And yet he did... things with her."

"I wasn't in my right mind," he interjected, grinning sheepishly. "Wasn't it the same for you?"

She flushed and looked away.

"Silly birdie," Fia said with fond exasperation. "If you don't want him looking at other women, you don't close your legs to him—you drain his balls so thoroughly that he won't have the energy to get it up for anyone else."

Gabrielle's brow furrowed. "Is that really how it works?"

"Demon or human, males are the same." Fia placed a hand on the small of her back. "Now let us celebrate being alive in the best way possible."

Gabrielle pouted but allowed Fia to usher her to the bed. The tops of her folded wings bumped its canopy, and she flinched back.

Fia frowned. "Retract those already, won't you?" Her own leathery pair had long since shrunk to a mere decoration on her back.

Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder and screwed up her face. Her wings flapped sluggishly. "I can't!"

Fia sighed. Positioning herself behind Gabrielle, she planted a palm between her wings. "Pull your shoulder blades back, like you're squeezing them together." The grey wings swung back, sandwiching her. "Relax, don't hold your breath. Now roll your shoulders forward and imagine drawing them in."

Gabrielle's wings fluttered, and in a rustle of feathers, shrank to nothingness. She craned her neck back and exclaimed in wonder, "I did it! They're gone!"

"You didn't think you would have to keep those out from now on, did you? Pretty as they are, they do get in the way in bed." Fia patted her ass affectionately. "Shall we?"

Gabrielle met her gaze. Something seemed to pass between them, because when they faced him, there was a glint in their eyes and almost matching grins on their lips. They sashayed closer, looked him over, and shoved his shoulders on both sides.

He plopped back onto the sheets. Fia planted her knee between his legs and followed him down. Draping herself over him, she kissed him passionately. He grabbed onto her fine arse and groaned against her mouth as her smooth leg brushed his cock.

The mattress depressed as Gabrielle climbed on. Fia pulled back breathlessly and looked at her. Harry did likewise, wondering if she was still upset with him. As if in answer, Gabrielle tucked a strand of her messy hair behind her ear and lowered her lips to his. Her kiss was tender and sweet.

Fia laughed quietly and smooched her way to his nipple. Meanwhile, her warm hand found his cock and stroked it. He gasped.

Gabrielle broke the kiss and glanced back. Not to be outdone, she added her hand to Fia's. Their motions weren't quite in tune, but he certainly had no complaints. Two pairs of eyes, violet and sky-blue, watched him pant in pleasure. He slipped his hand between Gabrielle's legs to pet her in turn; she moaned and clutched his cock tighter.

Fia ceased jerking him and licked his precum off her palm. "Oh, I can't wait," she said, her pupils wide. "I want to feel you explode inside me." She rose to her knees and straddled his thighs.

"Don't get ahead of yourself!" Gabrielle bent his cock toward herself. "Why is it always you?"

Fia contemplated her and sighed. "Let's play with it together," she said magnanimously. Bracing her hands on his thighs, she planted her feet on his either side. Her wet, hot cunt brushed his balls. "You take the front."

Under her guidance, Gabrielle straddled his abdomen and mimicked the position, sliding one leg over and the other under hers. "L-like this?"

Fia's warm weight shifted atop him. "Yes, like that—don't be shy, squish him nice and tight."

Harry inhaled sharply as the girls maneuvered closer to each other and sandwiched his throbbing length between their soaked pussies. He arched his hips, sliding between them.

"Someone's impatient," Fia said, giggling. "Go on, mark him with your scent like you wanted."

"Will that keep other demons away?" Gabrielle asked, sounding half-serious.

Fia laughed. "Probably not. But we'll have plenty of—_mm_—fun."

Harry moaned as she glided up and down his underside. Gabrielle awkwardly followed her lead, rocking her cunt against his cock from the front. Her arms trembled; he reached up to her slender waist and supported her.

The girls gradually found a rhythm. Their hot pussies slid from the root of his cock to the sensitive tip and back, drenching it with their love juices. Little pants of effort and wet noises filled the alcove.

"_Harry_," Gabrielle moaned. She paused to adjust her position and ground faster.

"You're gushing all over his cock," Fia teased breathlessly. "Feathery slut."

"Look at yourself," Gabrielle exclaimed. "B-besides... Harry's leaking too."

"That he is." Fia's tail poked his tightening balls. "Do you like being rubbed between our cunts, master?"

"Fuck yes," he grunted.

"Go ahead," she panted. "Spray your cum all over us."

The girls pressed closer together, grinding against him with breathless moans. The tip of Fia's tail, slick with her juices, caressed his balls. Pleasure rippled through him, and his head tilted back.

The girls exclaimed happily and stroked his spurting cock, smearing his cum over themselves. Spent, he sagged on the sheets.

Gabrielle clambered off him, her chest heaving. Her pale thighs glistened with their fluids, and ropes of cum dribbled down her abdomen.

Fia was similarly marked and appeared delighted about it. She gathered his cum off her tan belly, swirled it around her pebbled nipple, then slowly licked her fingers in turn.

Gabrielle stared, then daintily scooped some cum off herself. She popped it into her mouth and wrinkled her nose.

"What's with that face?" Fia asked. "If you don't want it, give it here."

Getting off him, she threaded her fingers into Gabrielle's hair and drew her into a deep kiss that left her breathless. Then she ventured lower and proceeded to lick and slurp at her abdomen.

"S-stop!" Gabrielle giggled ticklishly and pushed her off. "I'll just vanish it."

"That'd be a waste," Fia said, licking her lips. Her gaze flicked toward her sister, and her tone hardened. "Nuri, why aren't your fingers moving?"

"You forbade me to orgasm, sister," she panted.

"Ah," Fia said smugly. "So watching us got you that excited?"

Nuriye nodded, her cheeks flushed.

"Good. Keep edging until I tell you otherwise." Fia sat back and tapped her belly. "Since you've been so obedient, have a treat."

Without hesitation, Nuriye crawled closer and lapped at Fia's cum-soaked skin. Her hand wandered back between her legs, and she proceeded to finger herself wetly.

Gabrielle clambered atop him, making him look up. Her cheeks flushed when she met his gaze, and lowering herself, she kissed him softly. He closed his eyes and embraced her, tracing the slender curves of her back.

She glided over him, rubbing her breasts against his chest and pinning his erection to his stomach. "You're so hard," she marveled. "Um... can we?"

His cock twitched at the desire in her voice, and his breathing quickened. "Yeah."

She reached back for his cock, and with an adorable look of concentration on her face, backed onto it. They both moaned at the first moment of penetration. She was incredibly wet and pulsed around him as she took him deeper.

"So big," she breathed, gliding back and forth almost experimentally.

There was a dramatic gasp. "Gabrielle!" Fia cried. "How dare you hog his cock after I played nice with you?"

Gabrielle froze guiltily, but then stuck out her tongue and glided faster.

"Brazen little chick," Fia said with a smile. "Why, that was positively _demonic_ of you." She crawled behind Harry's head. "Scoot back. You can kiss later; I must put his mouth to better use."

Huffing, Gabrielle pushed off his chest and sat upright. Fia wasted no time straddling his face. A string of her love juice dangled from her engorged vulva.

"What are you staring at, birdie?" she said gleefully. "If you ride his cock, it's only fair I ride his face. Now shake those hips and make him cum so I can have my turn."

Gabrielle resumed riding him. He shuddered in pleasure and forced himself to focus on Fia's cunt hovering enticingly above. Lifting his hand, he slipped two fingers into her molten heat. She moaned and gripped them tightly as if having waited to be filled forever. Her tail wrapped his wrist and tugged promptingly.

"You're dripping on my face," he muttered, plunging his fingers in and out.

"Sorry, master," she said, trembling. "I got _so_ wet imagining your cock inside me."

"That won't do." Pulling out, he took hold of her hips. "Let me lick you clean."

"Oh, you know _exactly_ how to treat your queen." She sank onto his mouth and exhaled shudderingly when his tongue swept over her glistening petals. "Enjoy the taste of your favorite pussy."

"It feels good... inside me too... right?" Gabrielle bounced atop him, making him moan against Fia's cunt. "He says yes!"

Harry lapped hungrily at Fia's wetness, and her retort dissolved into a moan. Her scent was intoxicating, stoking his arousal to new heights. No matter how much he licked, more juices gushed from her molten depths.

Fia quivered. "_Ooh_... Your tongue's _marvelous_."

"Your cock too," Gabrielle gasped out. "Fills me... so right."

"Cum already so we can switch." Fia's weight shifted as she leaned toward Gabrielle. There was a slurping noise; Gabrielle moaned. "Delicious little nipples," Fia muttered, and suckled some more.

"N-not with your teeth," Gabrielle mewled, her inner walls fluttering.

"Keep moving," Fia chided, shifting to touch her somewhere else.

Whimpering and clenching deliciously, Gabrielle rode him. The girls' sweet voices filled his ears, and their skin touched everywhere. He was approaching the point of no return and could no longer focus on giving Fia's delectable cunt the attention it deserved, but she solved that problem by grinding on his tongue.

Tension built in his loins, and overcome by need, he thrust rapidly into Gabrielle's welcoming heat. Her moans grew louder until her inner walls clamped down on him and contracted wildly. He cried out and bucked into her. A third cry of fulfillment joined theirs as Fia shuddered and gushed into his mouth. For an endless moment, he couldn't tell where his body ended and theirs began.

Sagging to the sheets, he tilted his head so he could breathe. Fia clambered off with difficulty and gave him an upside-down kiss. The moment she drew up, Gabrielle slumped over his chest and pressed her lips to his.

"You taste like her," she whinged, pulling away.

"Then get off and let me kiss him," Fia said.

Gabrielle pondered for a few moments, then locked her lips with his again. He wrapped his arms around her sweaty body, feeling her tremble with occasional aftershocks of her climax.

"Alright, you've had yours." Fia crawled over and swatted her arse. "Now get off."

Gabrielle squeaked and sent her a glare. "But it feels so nice to stay connected for a while."

"I'm sure it does, and that's why you'll give me my turn. Make Nuri lick you if that wasn't enough for you."

Gabrielle protested dazedly, but Fia took her by the shoulders and practically pulled her off him. She beheld his slick and still hard cock, licked her lips, and jerked it.

He gasped, finding the treatment too rough. "Slow down."

"Oh no, not after she stole your cock right under my nose," she said, not relenting. "You can still go on, right?"

He growled, sat up abruptly, and grasped her horn. Yanking back her head, he looked her in the eye. "You bet I can."

A shiver ran through her, and her pupils dilated. "Talk is cheap," she whispered.

He kissed her roughly and shoved her away. The damned succubus sure knew how to rile him up! Leaping off the bed, he grabbed her hips and flipped her unceremoniously onto her back. She squealed and kicked her legs in mock resistance. He pulled her toward the edge of the bed and aligned himself with her dripping entrance.

She brushed his inner thigh with her tail. "Why, Harry," she purred, "you seem—"

A cry tore from her lips as he drove inside her in one deep thrust. Her tail writhed against him as she clenched at the intrusion. Harry groaned at her tightness and paused to collect himself.

Fia's fang grazed her lower lip. Her tail wrapped around the root of his cock, and she peered at him as if in a challenge. Holding up her legs, he began to thrust. Her cunt gripped him like a velvety vise while her tail tightened and loosened rhythmically. He panted for breath.

"You must be _so_ sensitive after cumming a bunch of times," Fia said, her voice unsteady. "T-take it easy, master."

"Shut up," he grunted without anger.

"There's nothing to—_ah_—prove." Her violet eyes said the exact opposite.

A low growl rose in his chest. He glanced at their audience. Nuriye sat by the bedpost, three fingers stuffed inside her cunt. Gabrielle was biting her finger and rubbing her thighs together. Perhaps she would be inclined to join in.

"Sit on her face and shut her up." He indicated Fia with his chin.

Gabrielle froze in surprise, then gave Fia an uncertain look. He jerked his chin at her again. Gabrielle's cheeks burned crimson as she timidly made her way toward the demoness.

"E-excuse me," she stammered, straddling her face with her back to Harry.

"Gabby!" Fia breathed, sounding shocked. "Was my tail not enough?"

"I—I'm only doing what Harry told me." Blushing to the tips of her ears, she peered down to position herself.

"Put that tongue to a better use than yapping," he said.

"Oh, I will." Fia pulled Gabrielle lower. "I'll get my tongue way up in your angelic cunt and suck out all of master's cum."

She wiggled her inhumanly long tongue inside Gabrielle and began to deliver on her promise with lewd slurps. Gabrielle whimpered, and small grey wings burst from her shoulder blades.

Harry refocused on the task at hand, namely, fucking the impertinence out of Fia. Leaning forward so that her ankles rested on his shoulders, he drove into her deeper. She moaned loudly, the cord of her tail tightening around his cock and her inner walls conforming to its shape.

"Demon whore," he grunted. "Nothing gets you going like rough fuck, huh?"

Fia clenched around him and gave a muffled noise; Gabrielle whimpered and sagged onto her face. Sweat dripped from Harry's chin as he fucked her with animalistic abandon.

"I'll fill you with my cum," he grunted, "just like you wanted."

Fia's head tilted back with a moan, and her tail constricted almost painfully around his cock. Its heart-shaped tip caressed his balls as if in encouragement.

"Sorry," Gabrielle gasped out, "but don't stop now." Taking hold of Fia's horns, she mashed her pussy to her mouth. Her little wings fluttered, and she arched her back with a cry.

Her ecstatic voice reverberated in Harry's ears and through his body. He slammed into Fia's quivering cunt to the hilt and came with a bellow. Her insides squeezed down like a vise, trapping him inside. For what felt like minutes, she milked him in rhythm with his spurts.

The last shudder ran through him, and he released an explosive breath. His shaking legs barely supported him. Withdrawing from her, he slumped on the bed and caught his breath.

Gabrielle snuggled into his side, then Fia. He wrapped his arms around their hot, sticky bodies. Gabrielle kissed him; as if not wanting to be left out, Fia wedged in and smushed her lips to theirs. Before he knew it, they were engaged in a wet and messy yet strangely intimate three-way kiss.

"It's curious how in sync we are," Fia murmured as she played idly with Gabrielle's hair. "The blood must be temporarily connecting us. Making us feel an echo of one another's most intense feelings."

Harry tilted his head in consideration. "I don't feel particularly different." Even his raging lust had finally calmed down.

"You must be in love, Fia," Gabrielle said dreamily. "It feels really good to see someone you love happy."

"What an insult!" Fia averted her gaze and dropped her voice. "But, just for today, I won't begrudge you believing your fairy tales."

A half-suppressed moan made them turn their heads. Fia grinned toothily and extricated herself from the tangle of their limbs.

"Look at you, Nuri," she gloated. "Were you envious, watching us fuck?"

Seated with her legs wide apart, the sheets underneath soaked with her desire, Nuriye was almost as sweaty and breathless as the three of them. At her sister's question, she dropped her gaze and bobbed her head jerkily.

"You poor thing," Fia crooned. Her tone abruptly became harsh. "Get on your fours and raise that fine ass in the air."

Panting in excitement, Nuriye obeyed.

Fia spanked her with an open palm. "When you barged into our home so rudely, I said your ass was going to get it." _Slap_. "And it will." _Slap_. "What do you say to that?"

Nuriye moaned with each spank. "P-please punish me!"

"That's the right attitude," Fia said, now caressing her sensitized skin, "but a simple spanking won't be enough, I'm afraid." Spreading her cheeks, she spat onto her asshole and eased a finger inside. "You're so tight. Ever take anything in here?"

Nuriye glanced back, her eyes wide. "I have not."

Fiamette smirked. "Perfect. Then here's what's going to happen..." Pulling out her finger, she leaned toward her sister's pointy ear. "I'm going to coil my tail tight around my master's cock, and he's going to plunge it inside your virgin ass. And then we're going to fuck you so hard that you walk bow-legged for days."

Nuriye trembled at the promise, although whether that was from apprehension or excitement, Harry wasn't sure.

"Will you stop with that crude talk?" Gabrielle interjected. "We were having such a beautiful moment!"

"Nothing quite as beautiful as wallowing in a puddle of our fluids after an orgy," Fia agreed, causing her to sputter. "Oh well, I could use a break—and it looks like Harry's done for the time being." She swatted Nuriye's arse. "Hear that? Your punishment's postponed."

"Oh," Nuri said, sounding almost disappointed.

"And no touching yourself until then." Fia stretched like a cat. "Now, does this dump have a bath? Cleansing flames do their job, but there's nothing like a nice hot soak."

Harry frowned at the mention of a bath; he felt like he was forgetting something.

Nuriye got up from her shameless position and cleared her throat. "This floor has a bathroom that connects to the mineral springs under the castle. Andras permitted no one but his concubines inside, but I know its location."

He smacked a fist against his palm while Gabrielle exclaimed, "Ah!" They exchanged a look.

"Can't we just leave them there?" she whinged.

He shrugged. "We have to let them out sooner or later or they'll starve."

She nodded grudgingly and rose to her knees. "I'm coming along." Her gaze flicked to his crotch, and she muttered, "Or you'll find yet another hole to stick that in."

Laughing, he rolled off the bed and offered her his hand. Gabrielle took it, climbed off, and attached herself to his arm. Fia took his other side, while Nuriye hastened ahead to show them the way.

They strolled out of the hall, down the corridor, and up to the sealed door. Harry reached unconsciously for his wand before recalling with a start that it had been destroyed. As it turned out, Gabrielle, naked as she was, had left hers behind. They hovered helplessly before the door until Fia rolled her eyes, coated her nail in hellfire, and deftly cut the edges Harry had merged with the wall.

Yanking the door open, she strutted inside. Harry, Gabrielle, and Nuriye followed. The dozen-or-so naked succubi gaped at them in stunned silence.

Fia scanned their ranks and bared her fangs. "Listen up, strumpets: this is the new master of the keep, and I'm his queen. Anyone unhappy with it either fight me now or get lost." She unleashed the full breadth of her wings and spread her claws.

The succubi contemplated her and Harry. One spoke in hellspeak and edged toward the exit. Another followed, and giving Fia a wide berth, they bolted through the door. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw them run toward the balcony and fly off at speed. The others exchanged surreptitious glances, and one by one, inclined their horned heads.

Fia's grin widened. "Smart of them not to challenge me. Nine of you, is it? Not bad for a start." She snapped her fingers. "Line up for your master's cock, strumpets. Don't worry, he has enough for everyone."

A chill ran down Harry's spine as nine pairs of slit-pupil eyes fixated hungrily on him. The padding of bare feet on marble filled the bathroom as the succubi raced to be his first. At that moment, he forgot all about his triumph over a Great Marquis and backtracked shamefully toward the door.

Gabrielle exclaimed angrily and leapt in front of him. In a _whump_ of displaced air, her grey wings burst to full size and forced the succubi back.

"Stay away, sluts!" she cried, flapping powerfully. "I won't let you corrupt him—corrupt him further! Harry's mine!" She glanced at Fia and amended, "Ours."

"Oh, that's right." Fia's face soured a little. "She's... his queen too. I might tease her, but you lot better show respect, or I'll tie you to the battlements for target practice."

The succubi murmured in assent and approached Gabrielle curiously. A tall demoness with dusky skin and striking green hair came up first and bowed.

"My name is Chloris," she said in a mellifluous voice. "Let us be friends."

"I—I think I would like that." Gabrielle squeaked as she was promptly enveloped in a naked hug.

"The warning's unnecessary." A brunette with snowy pale skin extended a hand to Gabrielle's wings. "Who would dare disrespect a fallen angel of her power?"

"Plus, she's downright _adorable_," cooed a busty blonde, pressing up to Gabrielle as soon as Chloris stepped back.

"Her wings are majestic," said a redhead, combing her fingers through the feathers. "More graceful than even the old master's."

Gabrielle trembled. "Thank you, but—_oh_, don't t-touch there..."

The succubi giggled and exchanged mischievous glances.

"Your feathers are in a disarray," the brunette crooned. "Let us put them to rights."

The blonde clicked her tongue. "Your hair too, you poor thing. Chloris, fetch the oils, would you?"

"Your muscles are so tense," said the redhead, now massaging her shoulders. "Allow us to help you relax."

Gabrielle protested halfheartedly as the succubi led her to the edge of the pool, but once they began to pamper and groom her with gentle expertise, she melted into their hands. Harry kept an eye on her for a minute, but it did not look like she needed help escaping their clutches.

Fia was already soaking in the steaming pool, her arms draped over the edge as if she owned the place—which, come to think of it, was the case. He washed himself under a waterfall-like shower beside the wall and traipsed over to her. A trio of succubi jiggled up to him with lascivious smiles, but it only took a dismissive wave for them to bow and back off. It appeared that, like Nuriye, they viewed him as a full-fledged demon lord.

Stepping into the pool, he sat beside Fia with a contented sigh. "Didn't expect you to acknowledge her like that," he remarked.

Fia glanced at the gaggle surrounding Gabrielle. "She braved hell, the antithesis to her nature, and came to my rescue, even if it was more for you than me." Averting her gaze, she was silent for a minute. "It would irk me to be indebted to a naive little girl like her."

"Careful," he said, grinning, "you almost sound like you care."

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Just thinking about the future." An unholy light burned in her eyes. "It's much sooner than I expected, but with me at your right side and her at your left, with this citadel as our foothold, we can begin our glorious conquest."

He fixed her with an unamused look. "There won't _be_ a conquest, glorious or otherwise."

"Not any time soon, naturally." She leaned into his side and rubbed his chest. "Andras's legions will scatter, and we'll have to recruit from the rabble. The prisoners you freed would be a start. We will hunker down for a decade or two and build up strength. And once we're ready..." Her voice dropped to a fervent undertone. "Gehenna will tremble."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, too wrung out to argue. As far as he was concerned, they were going home at the earliest opportunity. He fingered the nub of a horn protruding from his skull. As Fia's example had shown, even as he was now, he could fit in without much trouble.

And if not... Fiamette was right about one thing, he reflected as Gabrielle stepped into the water and relaxed against his other side. Together, they could face anything.


End file.
